


Something In Common

by Ouchimoo



Category: Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, Do not mistake my tolerance as friendship, Fallout, Fallout 3 - Freeform, Fallout 4 - Freeform, Gen, Paladin Danse - Freeform, Synth Retention, Unethical Experimentation, band of misfits, karma system from fallout 3 was the best!, nick valentine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ouchimoo/pseuds/Ouchimoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can't believe you're replacing me with this . . . thing!"</p><p>An abomination. Something that should be destroyed. Yet while Danse struggles to come to terms with his newfound identity he still harbors his prejudices against the Institution and its synths. But nothing is as black and white as he once believed. When he gets mixed up with Nick Valentine, a group of runaway synths and an Institution splinter group, he finds himself on a mission with a handful of Nora's detestable allies. </p><p>There's Deacon, the embodiment of dishonesty and deception; Hancock, an egotistical, narcotized ghoul and self-appointed mayor of a criminal haven; and of course Nick Valentine, the synth. What more needs to be said in those regards? While he could find numerous reasons to take judge, jury and executioner against any one of them, he finds that among them he shares at least something in common.</p><p>With others, maybe even more.</p><p>Mostly a story based on Danse's comment between Nick's character swap and Danse's swap. One is much more accepting than the other. I'd like to delve into a scenario as to why.</p><p>At first alternating POV. Later more congruent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, just so any of you reading my other story knows, it's not on hold, I've just been busy with life and I've just been so tired lately, it's been hard to write. I wanted to wait til this was much farther along before I started posting..but I wanted to post something sooner than later... So here we are.
> 
> Bits and pieces of this story alternate between Danse and Valentine's perspective. Sorry if you have to sit through Danse's dry form of thinking :)

If it wasn’t for their mutual friend, he would have destroyed the abomination in a heartbeat. Although as far as he was concerned, that thing wasn’t a friend to the Vault Dweller by any stretch of the word. It was a machine, wholly incapable of designating its master as anything remotely close to a friend. Programmed with cleverly written artificial intelligence made for an interesting facade but nothing more. It was a tool. A machine that existed to serve a solitary function, to serve mankind. In this unfortunate circumstance it wasn’t a pre-war relic that still held use, but one built by the Institute. Right then and there should have been grounds for termination. Yet, it was insisted that the programming on this machine was a vital necessity to finding her son. So, he left it at that. 

Although it was nothing to say of the outrage he felt when he first saw it at the same settlement he was stationed at. While the Sole Survivor left to thwart the raiders with their hostage demand, the synth had been left behind to act as a diplomatic agent. Danse was acting Sergeant of the Guard. His role made sense to him. He was a soldier, a member of the Brotherhood of Steel. Destroying enemy combatants that strayed on his turf or afar was his duty. This, monstrosity, was supposed to be a tracking agent of sorts. By all rights, it shouldn’t have had anything to do with this settlement. And as the senior commanding officer, he would have otherwise had say in this matter, but he needed to build trust and public relations to the Commonwealth. Because of that, he could not be intransigent. That left him with no choice but to leave it at that. 

Unless that thing provoked him, which he knew it would only be a matter of time. That fact he was sure of and he took no small amount of pleasure strolling up the the machine and warning it of that fact. 

“I’ve got my eyes on you synth.” Danse laced an edge on the word, calling it out on what it really was: an object. “Dare to make a move and I’ll end you.” Or perhaps far more pleasure than he’d like to admit.

“Not going to happen.” It’s voice unphased, not even bothering to notice or be intimidated by the two foot difference in stature and bulk of power armor. “Now, if I were you, I’d put those eyes to better use, watching for raiders.” It didn’t even put tones of indignation in its voice. It was stated as matter of fact, knowing that Danse couldn’t guard the outside perimeter being enclosed inside the building. Then, it just nonchalantly walked away from him. Completely unfazed by the threat, but seemingly not oblivious. Honestly, that made Danse seeth even more. 

He spent the rest of his watch at the perimeter staring inward. Watching as that disheveled machine conversed and interacted with the settlers. It didn’t do much in regards to farming Danse noted, instead spending its time doing domestic duties as penance. Right now it was preparing food and cooking. The thought that any of these people could stomach eating anything that thing touched, or likely poisoned. . .It certainly made him lose his appetite. 

In the end however, and after many hours of observation, it had been right. Nothing happened. No matter how much Danse wanted it to. It never provoked or agitated the populous. Despite many members being unsettled by having a cut from the cloth synth in their mists, no hostilities ever erupted. Others even seemed blind to its manufacture, even referring to it as “Nick” or “Mr. Valentine”. They acted like it was their friend.

It pitted at his stomach that he had to leave it at that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Valentine is on a pro bono case during his downtime while Nora is away. He takes to the Slog with intel that there may be some run away synths hiding there. What he discovers was not what he expects. While trying to tread the line between hostilities and acceptance between synths, ghouls and humans the worst happens. When a Institute splinter group come down on the settlement to capture the missing synths, he finds himself needing to rely on a surprising ally to help pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So summertime's a thing. So's Overwatch. Not to mention that I haven't finished my DLC for Fo4 yet. Going to plug away on this story for a bit. The BNW I want to rewrite my last couple chapters or the upcoming ones. I find they're just so slow..if I'm having this hard of a time writing them, I can't imagine their that great to read. Anywho...

Nick had seen Danse in passing a few times since being holed up in the same settlement together while the Minutemen General went off to handle some raider affair. He hated to admit it, but the many times Danse tried to get under his skin and flustered when he failed rather amused him. Nick had learned how to deal with those who tried to use bullying and intimidation for their ends. Something he pinned Danse as overusing ever since joining the Brotherhood. And Nick had his methods down to an artform. Knowing when to buck and when to let slide. It helped that now days it took a lot more than words and a puffed up chest to unnerve him. Hell, sometimes a barrel of a gun wouldn’t do it. Having a sense that, in one way or another, one form of you has already died seemed to hold some leeway in what keeps you awake at night.

But something about seeing Danse now was different. Nick certainly hadn’t expected to see him here. Their eyes met and Nick couldn’t help but look alarmed before he tore his gaze away. A lacky from the Brotherhood of Steel was the last thing he wanted to see here. It didn’t help that he noted Danse had a different look in his eyes. If he could read it, he looked more stressed or done in. Hell for all he knew, as the man barely had much for readable expressions aside from protocol and anger, maybe he was just tired. Tired could mean more impulsive but that was temporary. Stress could be problematic. Emotions tended to make the predictable muddy. His presence here was going to make things a lot more trickier the way it was, he didn’t need a soldier with an ego to stroke along with it. Nick turned on his heel and entered the large building before giving one last glance at the sentinel. He couldn’t fathom why he was stationed at the Slog. A settlement ran by ghouls and the zealotry of the Brotherhood of Steel didn’t exactly mix. Unless this was a ruthless ploy by the Sole Survivor to get Danse to perhaps reconsider some of his prejudices. Nick heard of the incident at the Hotel Rexford where Danse suggested that a ghoul should be put down as an act of mercy, in none too kind of words. That ghoul happened to be an acquaintance to the vaultie from way back before the war. Since Danse had effectively inserted his foot into his mouth, maybe this was his punishment.

-Why in God’s name she drug a Brotherhood of Steel member into Goodneighbor was well beyond him, or how she managed to get him out in one piece for that matter.-

“Wiseman,” Nick nodded in greeting. The calm and collective ghoul looked up and smiled back when he recognized him. After all, Nick was hard to mistake for anyone else, and that ugly mug of his tended to be memorable. “Things been treating you well?”

“Far better than I could have ever imagined. Only tartberry farm in the Commonwealth. You know, when we first arrived here, I would have never expected this place to be as strong as it is now. I hope you don’t think of me a little egotistical for me saying so but I’m damn proud of what we done here.” The ghoul beamed.

“As you should be.” Nick pulled a cigarette from his pack and placed it to his lips. Though it wasn’t without any small amount of help from the Soul Survivor. Most provisioners and traders in the area always wanted to get their hands on the delicacies that were only cultivated at this farm. Tartberry tea and wine had a popular market but the supermutants and the Forge had the roads to the Slog all but paralyzed. Wiping out the supermutants’ base and a few well placed turrets seemed to fix those problems.   
“You really made something for yourself here.” Nick added. He hadn’t known Mr. Wiseman that well back in the day, back when ghouls were still allowed in Diamond City and Nick was still a bit of a shouldered outcast, but he knew he was a good man.

“Sure did. How’s things back at Diamond City?” Small chat. Polite. The ghoul was good about dismissing old grudges. He was sincere with his question about the green jewel. Nick respected him for it.

“Oh well, same old. Same old. The folks in the stands thinking they're something they're not. Folks at the bottom still picking up the pieces.” Nick left it at that, lighting the cigarette up to further the silence. He wasn’t here on a social visit. He had picked up some intel while Nora allowed him to tag along to the RailRoad HQ. Blindfolded of course, but for everyone else she held at her side lately, the RailRoad seemed relieved it was him, and not some mercenary, or an ex-raider, and certainly not a Brotherhood of Steel soldier. That’s not to say he didn’t have his own ideas of how the RailRoad should be handling things. Lots of lost synths wandering around out in the Commonwealth that could use their help, but he didn’t think hiding them under the nose of folks whose only perception of synths were boogieman spies sent out to replace people was a good idea. Thank goodness he was perfect; it’s not like he had the fix all solution. Still, if he could at least get through to just a few people, he hoped that would be enough. If one settlement could be a safe haven, then he could say he did some good in this world. What better place to start than a homestead who knew first hand what it was like to be prosecuted for just being. But first, he had to find the synths who were hiding here. By his count, there should be three.

There were tell tale signs of what to look for. He had been doing this long enough to know what. The first one was easy enough to spot, but it surprised him to see who. One of the workers in the tartberry sludge was always on edge, always pulling for their gun afraid of everyone and everything. Especially him. The Institute looking synth drone.

“It’s okay. I think we’re safe here.” Nick muttered to her while he walked by the once-was swimming pool. She looked at him, alarmed and confused. Perhaps even more so that Nick was calm and showed no sense of hostility. Slowly she settled her gun back and pretended to return to her work. She instead watched him carefully. Nick sat down at the patio table. Out of the corner of his eyes he gauged her. She had gone to great lengths to hide her features from the Institute. She was dressed from head to toe despite spending most of her time soaking wet. She wore a surgical mask hiding most of her face. On top of that, she somehow managed to ghoul herself. He thought Hancock was the only one who found a way to do that. Still, it was a grim reminder as to how far some of these folks would go to get away from the Institute. It would take some time to get her comfortable enough to confide in him. He certainly didn't feel comfortable enough to do it while Danse watched his every move. Speaking of which, his eyes darted up the the soldier. As expected a stern gaze was leveled his way. Danse looked like he was gritting his teeth, looking for a fight. Again, not unusual. This time however, he looked more eager than apathetic. Nick couldn’t shake the feeling that this time around, Danse was more dangerous.

He finished his tea and retreated back inside. That would be a job for later. In the meantime, he’d see if he couldn’t single out the other two. Job shouldn’t be too hard. After all, there were only a handful of humans here. All new on account of the Slog only recently hiring on new settlers. He’d wait until supper time when they were all together. Maybe he could pick out some differences then. Synths proved to be an interesting challenge, having learned to never show emotion back in the Institute as a matter of survival, they could wear the same worn down, stoic look any member of the commonwealth had. Not some bleary, doe eyed look that nearly every vault dweller wore when first stepping out into the light. Still, there are things they were naive to, and if they could help it, they’d stick together. 

When supper time did roll around, Nick took a seat among them while they ate. None of the humans were fond of his presence, which wasn't all that surprising. Though it posed a problem. He couldn’t pick up any indication of synth versus human here. He would have to cozy up to them. He could do that easy enough through the conversations through his friendly acquaintances, the ghouls.

Their conversation was mostly about the new changes in the Slog. It didn’t take long for Holly to start in on her new crush. She was always a bit of a romantic with a wide span of what she qualified as attractive in a suitor.

“That boy out there is such a hottie! Ah, so tall dark and handsome. I wonder if we could get him to work the fields, I could watch him work all day!” She waved herself off with her hand, half dazed in her daydream. Jones rolled his eyes at her. Wiseman cracked an amused smirk. Nick would have liked to encourage it, but this was Danse she was talking about.

“Holly, you’re not too bad of a looker yourself.” Nick smiled with a well rounded flirt. She twisted up with a coquettish smile and a bleat. “But you ought to be careful for whose attention you're vying for, some people around here have a funny idea on what goes for a compliment in these parts.”

“Where is that soldier any how?” Jones asked looking around for him. 

“Right here.” Danse responded from the other side of the open door. His back held to the wall as he listened in on their conversations. Nick stiffened in surprise. Normally Danse stuck to the outside perimeter. He must be feeling quite bold if he was staying just outside the building.

“Danse, why don’t you come in, make yourself feel welcome?” Not that he really wanted him to, but even two hundred years later, honey still worked better than vinegar.

“I don’t think so synth. I will tolerate the ghouls here, but not you.” There was a sharp knife in his words.

Nick straightened up while a line deepened in his artificial brow. Instantly there was a shift in the air. One girl with long wavy black hair wiped the napkin over her mouth.

“Excuse me.” She stood and left. Danse’s disgust at the synth created just enough of an opening. Now her and two others excused themselves from Nick’s presence. They had spent the duration of the dinner fidgeting uncomfortably around Valentine, afraid to do or say anything. Now bolstered by someone with considerable strength calling out how they felt about Nick, they used it as their springboard. Nick sat back in his chair trying to reconsider his next move.

Danse was playing the board differently this time around. Nick was going to have to rework his strategy carefully.


	3. Chapter 3

Danse had watched the synth detective from afar. The last time he had any amount of time dealing with that thing, he was filled with disgust. Not that it was any different now, just that more of that disgust went inward. He assumed he knew why that damn thing was here. Nora. The Vault Dweller sent Danse to the Slog after Maxxon learned about his fallback point at Listening Point Bravo. She convinced him to stay in the Commonwealth so he could still continue his mission against the Institute. If his true identity was risked, Nora hoped that the people of the Slog would be- understanding. But did she seriously think he would want to confide anything to that machine?! He held nothing but abhorrence towards the synth. 

As far as he could tell they had nothing in common. If Danse was an Institute spy sent in to undermine the Brotherhood’s intent then they were sorely going to be disappointed. He saw the changes the Brotherhood had done, the good they brought. If he could piece anything together as to where his memories were forged and his memories made, he knew his entire life in the Brotherhood was real. There was a whole history there among his fellow brothers and sisters not to mention the carefully guarded documentation on each personnel. Through the Brotherhood of Steel, Danse came to understand his strengths and weaknesses. He excelled at fighting, both weapons and hand to hand, he was a tactician by nature, but he was not an infiltrator. Not like this- thing. He was certain this synth was still an agent of the Institute. This machine excelled at data collection and tracking. Perfect skills for being an informant. Not to mention how it could weasel it’s way into the hearts and minds of anyone who came in contact with despite the fact that it still looked completely mechanical. It was mind boggling. It even had the Vault Dweller in a false sense security. She completely miscalculated how dangerous this thing was. Danse all but felt like he walked into a trap at her discretion. 

When they both saw each other here for the first time, he saw the rage glowing in those yellow demonic eyes it had. Now it was a chess game, as they each kept sentry over one another, making moves to outdo the other. The synth wanted to lull him into a false sense of comfort, suggesting to make himself part of the community and to be honest, Danse wanted to. No longer on mission for the Brotherhood, Danse had nowhere he belonged to. Always being apart of something bigger than himself, then torn away from it all left him feeling utterly inadequate. He had to try and pick up the pieces and start anew, something that terrified him, but he wasn’t going to be so nieve to do it at the synth’s beckoning. 

However something seemed to change when he called the synth out while it was implementing its tactics to get close to the settlers. At least three people saw through the synth’s facade, and without so many words, sided with Danse. 

Danse felt a weary smile form on his face. Knight takes Bishop.

Over the next few days Danse was also able to glean from conversations with the local ghouls that there was some umbrage in regards to the synth. Five years ago they shared the same space in Diamond City. To think this infiltrator has been around for so long, digging up who knows what on all its civilians, it made him sick. Now that he sensed a reluctance from the ghouls to talk openly about what their fears were, it only bolstered the need to get rid of it. Of course, he couldn’t blame them for being silent. It was to be expected for something that could be so effective with its skillsets. Being mindful of prying ears was a necessity. Perhaps, hidden in that history, Danse might be able to find the justification he needed to put the abomination down. So while he avoided the synth in the past for the sake of the Vault Dweller, he saw no harm in stirring up the truth about it now. The most effective way to do so was to instigate it. He stealthed up behind it as it was busy scrubbing food off of a series of mismatched plates. Despite the bulk and clanking metal of the power armor, Danse could be extraordinarily quiet if he so chose to be.

“What are you doing here synth?” He made his voice boom as an extra bit of effort to unnerve the abomination. He assumed he already knew the answer but wanted to grill it out of the synth directly. It straightened, but didn’t startle as much as he would have liked.

“Fail to see how that’s any of your business.” It’s voice was even but most certainly annoyed. 

“As long as I’m stationed here, I will make sure any civilian in this settlement is safe! That means if I think you’re remotely questionable, which I do, then your business becomes my business!”

“You’re still stuck on that old line? I’ve got every right to be here as you do, Danse!” Nick lobbed the plate he was holding into the water before facing the soldier. The standoff was the moment Danse had been waiting for.  
“In case you forgot, this isn’t exactly a Brotherhood of Steel airship we’re standing in here! Where’s your authority?”

“Any place is a good place to neutralize a threat!” Danse stepped forward pushing the synth into the wash basin. Valentine had to catch himself from falling into the cold soapy water.  
Nick watched as a cascade of sudsy water splashed over the edge and down to the floor. With the tub at his back and Danse hovering over him, Nick found himself pinned. Folds of plastic formed into a sneer as his glare twisted up to match Danse’s. 

“Really? Here?” Nick snarled. “Is there a reason for this hostility or are you just trying to get on my nerves? You know, I’d like to know what Nora thinks about what you’re up to!”

“Is that the best you can do, Synth, hide behind her?” Danse challenged, knowing full well that Paladin Nora was now his superior- not officially, but he would always consider himself a Brotherhood of Steel soldier. However, her new title gave her new responsibilities, one’s she couldn’t skirt around like she had in the past.  
“Besides it’s your word against mine. Do you really think she would find me so impulsive?”

“Yeah?” Nick’s straightened as he slid closer into Danse’s authoritative bubble, “Then why are you?”

Danse grit his teeth. He didn’t have an answer. Inside he could feel his stomach twist in disgust. He normally considered this kind of tactic to be dishonest and brazen, yet here he was, pursuing it with full force. Being called out by his foe was just icing on the cake. There was a tick in Danse’s expression that he feared the synth could read like a textbook. The abomination could, he could see it, and with that he felt his power hold slip. 

“Is there a problem here?” Wiseman’s question startled the two out of their stare-down. Neither had heard the ghoul wander in. Maybe that was the intention, to catch them off guard before it was too late. That is, if the look of fury in their eyes indicated anything.

“No.” ”No.” Nick and Danse’s voices echoed in unison. Danse took a full step back giving Nick the room to straighten out his tie. 

“We’re done here!” Nick used the intrusion as a chance to escape. He shot Danse a look of fire blazed in his eyes. In response Danse could only exhale what felt like ice. Once again, the damn synth slipped through his fingers, unphased by Danse’s threat. All he done, was make the thing agitated which barely furthered his intent.

“I hope there isn’t any troubles. We’re a peaceful community here.” Wiseman was careful not to sound chiding, but he wanted the rules to be known regardless.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be. As long as the synth recognizes its place.” Danse made sure to say while Nick was still in earshot. He noted a change in its pace, ever so slightly. Just enough to indicate it heard him, but the synth’s stiffening then subtle shake of his head wasn’t satisfying. The synth’s resolve was too strong for one encounter. Danse too walked away, not waiting to see the return look on Wiseman’s face, to see whether he was a synth sympathiser or not. Danse simply wanted it to be known where he stood. 

At least to rest of the colony seemed to appreciate him for it. While they worked the fields Danse would patrol along the rows of corn. Not that it was necessary, Danse had already known the synth avoided the fields, but the humans seemed to be at ease in his presence. To be honest, he liked that he still felt like he had something valuable to offer. He even felt like he was getting through to the ghouls when he heard Jones ask Valentine a very pointed question.

“So why are you here anyway?” It was uttered between their small talk. Nick seemed to consider it carefully, catching on that once again Danse had locked his gaze onto him. 

“Honestly? Just thought I could use a vacation from the detective’s life for a bit. Jobs slowed down considerably since everyone thought me for dead. Nora helped finish the jobs I had left. One of those included my own personal pet project that I’d been working on for years now. After all that I figured I could use a break.”

“Well, I hope you’re business is doing alright.”

“Oh yeah. It’ll pick up. Always does.”

“Quit skirting around the issue!” Danse growled under his breath. He then announced out loud for everyone to hear, “I think what Mr. Jones was asking for was why are you here, at The Slog!” He thought it was a good ploy to corner the synth but it perhaps came out a little too exuberantly. Nick’s expression changed as he keenly studied Danse. He was ready to take on the challenge, even if was confused as to why Danse offered it as one.

“Because I have many acquaintances here that I haven’t had a chance to check in on since they were all so rudely booted from their homes.” Nick said with a level of justified anger that neutralized Danse’s feint. “I wanted to see how they were doing, how they were holding up.”

“Kicked from their homes?” The redheaded man repeated in surprised.

“The infamous Inauguration of Douglas Vern McDonough.” Jones hissed. 

“It was quite the travesty.” Nick recalled the event in his mind. “The now Mayor McDonough campaigned on a platform of removing all the ghouls from Diamond City. At the time, most folks regarded it as a bunch of hoo-ha fear mongering. But it sure caught the attention from those in the Stands.”

Jones scoffed, commenting under his breath. Wiseman gritted his teeth as well.

“The Stands?” Another human settler paused, finding themselves drawn to Jones and Valentine’s conversation.

“The upper crust. People with a lot of money- a lot of clout. In all of McDonough’s wisdom, he saw ghouls as a blight on their well to do establishment. And by wisdom, I mean greed. So it wasn’t that surprising when his purge somehow passed me by. At the time many of the folks from the Stands had me so backed up with work, looking into these- frivolous death threats that McDonough somehow developed quite the blind eye to me.” 

Danse wanted to interject, but Deirdre cut in first.

 

“They did? I had no idea! Is that really how you slipped the guillotine?” Deirdre uttered in a way that was clear she was rethinking her previous position on Nick. Other ghouls mummered in agreement. Nick had covered his bases before Danse could even strike. 

“Sure did. And at the time, I couldn’t exactly leave even if I wanted to. If I tried to turn tail and run, they would have had me hunted down and hung for fraud.”

Danse listened to them as they continued their conversation that spun around politics and discrimination. He wanted to trap Valentine. It was a disappointment when he discovered that the ghoul’s disdain for the synth could be so easily explained away. In the end he handed the conversation over to the synth’s favor. The Brotherhood had a hard line when it came to ghouls. Danse himself lost several soldiers under his charge when ferals raided his base of operations. That’s not to say he hated ghouls. He always put his judgement on a case by case bases of the individual, not the group. He held no animosity to any particular ghoul here. They were all hard working and didn’t lament for hours on end how terrible their existence was. If some of them had prewar knowledge and skillsets, that made them all the more invaluable as long as they didn’t spend all their time wallowing in their own self pity. However, trying to explain his standing caused for a lot of misunderstanding. On top of that It is an uncertainty what caused a mentally functioning ghoul to turn. So to avoid offending any of them, he simply remained silent. He didn’t want to be regarded as a bigot.

No, this round, he hated to admit went to Valentine. 

That’s not to say he felt any less conflicted. It was really starting to irritate him that Valentine kept stringing him along like this. Now he wasn’t wondering if the synth wasn’t doing it just for some sick form of entertainment. Feeling the rage boil up in him, he knew he’d have to push the synth harder. It didn’t help that it became privy to Danse’s new mode of operation. The machine now always left itself an out, whether that meant a close exit or keeping another member in close proximity to step in if things looked dubious. 

“Abomination!” Danse uttered under his breath as Nick passed by him. He was getting frustrated, and he was getting sloppy. The synth slammed down on him with one effective chide.

“That what your parents called you?”

The fiends words tore the breath from Danse’s lungs. The synth certainly was messing with him now, knowing that if he never had parents how painful a comment like that could be. And the fact that he himself was an abomination. Did it hurt more because it was his own despicable kind calling him out on his own words? Or was it because he was so crudely reminded of Maxson’s words? That he wasn’t born from the womb of a loving mother. Instead, created in a cold sterile test tube. The synth had kept on walking, not even looking back to see the damage it had done. Likely, it didn’t need to. It had won another round. These terrible, foul emotions were quickly overtaking Danse. He retreated to somewhere quiet and alone to where he could fight them back without interruption. Without- that synth being there as a constant reminder of what he was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter :\

“And now we’re back to being the lone wolf I see.” Nick muttered before placing a cigarette to his lips and lighting it with the flick lighter Nora had given him. He watched Danse off in the distance on the hill between the trees. He couldn’t place when the change had happened, as it came across like a riptide. Most of the population was of course, oblivious, but Nick noticed an underlying change in Danse’s behavior. He went from overzealously trying to corner him at every turn, to avoiding everyone- especially him. There was even a hint that Danse was now self destructive. Maybe Nick wouldn’t have noticed it, but seeing Danse without that power armor definitely turned some heads. It was then that Nick knew something was wrong. It was the first time he had ever seen him without it. Even when the soldier slept, he was in that damn suit of armor. Nick had joked in the past that maybe Danse was more machine than he was. But now Danse, just Danse, was out on the hill, feverishly attacking any tree left standing with an axe. Nick had seen that kind of over-working fanaticism before, having done it a thousand times before when he himself was in dire need of a distraction. As Nick approached, he noticed Danse’s jumpsuit was drenched with sweat and the weathered wooden handle was stained with blood. At first Nick stood contemplating, he wanted to crack a joke about knowing how hard work was nowdays, but felt it would be ill received. Nick flicked his cigarette away, putting his hands in his pockets and stood silently, waiting to see how long it would take for Danse to notice him there. He never had. He was too preoccupied with throwing all his emotions into the blade of that axe. Danse’s body was quaking with the exertion. Still he would fling the axe down deep into the wood, throwing anger into his voice as he did.

“Danse. We need to talk.” Nick’s voice came out hard. Having the chance to watch him up close, Nick wasn’t in the mood for jokes anymore. Danse really was on a path to hurt himself. Or at least with the amount of energy he was exerting, drenched in sweat in this cold weather, he was looking to drag his immune system through the dirt. “You mind telling me what this is all about?”

Danse stopped, but he wouldn’t turn to face Nick. Instead he dropped the axe head down, resting his hand on top of the handle. The back of his other wrist swept away the sweat from his brow. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” His voice was ice.

“Enlighten me Danse. Just in case I happen not to.”

Danse’s rage filled him to the brim. Valentine was out to make a fool of him and now he was at his wits end. He turned, wildly casting the axe aside with the burst of momentum. It flung dangerously into the dirt a few feet away from them.

“Nora tells you everything so don’t pretend that you don’t know! You’ve been here this entire time with nothing better to do than to mock me! Do you get some sort of sick decisive pleasure in these mind games of yours!?” 

“Danse?”

“Just admit it! What better payback than jerking me along like this. So we don’t like each other, I get that. But this? What you are doing- this is cruel!”

“Danse, I don’t know-”

“What?” Danse hissed sarcastically. “You don’t know I’m a synth!?” The words seemed to echo through all the trees and through Nick’s analog ears. His yellow eyes blighted as he stiffened.  
“Or am I to believe that little fact somehow slipped her mind when you pry your weekly reports from her? That is utter rubbish and you know it!” Danse pointed in accusation. “You knew!” 

Danse’s scowl shifted to horror when he read into Nick’s stunned expression. Nick was half shaking his head, struggling to roll Danse’s words through it.

“No.” Danse backtracked. “No. Don’t tell me you didn’t know! You knew I was a synth. Isn’t that why you’re here! You knew I was a synth!” 

Now Nick’s mind snapped into sharp focus, when it did so did his voice.

“Keep your voice down! You want everyone else in the settlement to know about this?! That’s as good as putting a target on your back!” 

Danse couldn’t respond. His eyes dropped to the ground. Silence washed over both as Danse couldn’t bare to look at the synth and Nick couldn’t break his stare on the man. The breeze wound around them rigid and sharp pulling sounds crisply over great distances. Dried leaves rattled loudly and the movement of nearby woodland creatures could be heard as if they were only mere inches away. The only thing that couldn’t be heard- was the voices from those down in the fields. They had been shushed to silence. The proclamation already reached their ears. Danse tried to compose himself, but it was a lost cause. He was as shaken as a ragstag doe being cornered by the hunter. Danse lifted his beaten hands up to examine them. The weathered axe handle had shredded the skin on his palms raw. He tried to wipe the dirt away using the powerful sting as a distraction.

“I can’t believe Nora didn’t tell you.” Danse’s tone returned to its ever evened level.

“She-” in comparison Nick’s voice was incredibly soft,” she doesn’t tell me everything. This was clearly a conversation between just the two of you.” Nick respired carefully. “Danse? Who else knows? Does- the Brotherhood?”

“The Brotherhood is the reason I found out! And I barely found out in time.” The underlying venom told enough.

“Oh, Danse, I’m so sorry.”

“No. No! I don’t want your sympathy synth!” 

Nick blinked, surprised by how cold Danse had snapped at him. Then nodded in numbness realizing how- unique this situation had become. Still Nick couldn’t leave it be.

“Well, if you need anything, just- let me know.” He needed to at least put the offer on the table. He doubted the Paladin would take him up on it, but sometimes it would surprise a guy who would. Nick took two steps backwards still regarding Danse. The ex-soldier returned to staring at his bloody and blistered hands. Nick departed and hastily walked down the hill back to the settlement. Even at this distance, Danse could see Jones or Wiseman intercept the synth. A conversation was muffled between them. 

“Just leave it be!” That was the only thing Danse could make out between them and it was because Nick had shouted so loudly.

-

Nick sat with a cup of cold tea in his hand. He had been holding it ever since it was too hot to drink, even by his standards. He rolled the revelation in his head about Danse. No wonder he had such a look in his eyes. He just couldn’t have known it was- this. What a doozy. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. There certainly wasn’t anything he could say. The last thing Danse needed to hear was some beat up- left in the trash- machine trying to tell him it was okay to be some manufactured mistake of human nature. Not in any believable stretch anyway. Hell, he hadn’t even figured out his own damn dilemma. And he had years to! Even after all this time he constantly found himself struggling to find the line between Nick the synth and Nick the human. That there shouldn’t even be a line at all. He was The Synth. There was no human at all. He never was. The closest he ever got was some gray synthetic material that reacted to stimpacks and some old memories that didn’t belong to him. He tried to have those erased once. Lot’ a fat good that did him. He even tried to kill off any yoke to his past by taking out Eddy Winter. That didn’t make the pain of losing Jenny any easier. Jenny- the girl who was never even was his to begin with. Nick was a mess. And all this turmoil he still struggled with, hell, it paled in comparison to what Danse had to be going through right now. All the zealotry in the world couldn’t drive a knife in deeper than finding out you were the one thing you unequivocally despised. That anyone he ever loved and cared about could so easily turn on him, calling Danse a traitor and finding it more convenient to brand him the enemy rather than reconsider their prejudices. In one fell swoop, his world had collapsed around him and he had no-one to help him stand.

No wonder Danse was so desperate to pick a fight, especially with him. The horrible visible reminder of what he was. Nick closed his eyes. Behind him he heard the settlers of the Slog spit out venom about the boogeyman synth in their presence. Even here, when the jagged edge of bigotry and discrimination left them so wounded, they could still brand their own hatred. Danse didn’t deserve this. Despite all the zealotry and the narrow minded views Danse held, he still did his best to be a good upstanding member of the Commonwealth- of society. 

“Wiseman.” Nick uttered wearily. The talking quieted, Nick knew he had the ghouls’ attention. “I need to have a talk with you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Nick stood at the edge of the swimming pool looking out at the tree line. Danse was now huddled up, even at this distance Nick could see he was shivering. The fall weather was fast upon them, casting a bitter chill through the air. Danse was still in the jumpsuit that Nick was sure was still damp and drawing in all that coldness. Nick went back inside, fetching a thick blanket. Draped over his arm, he walked to the far end of the pool, through the hole in the fence and stood under a tree that somehow avoided Danse’s fury, He looked down at the man, the now christened synth. Danse took no interesting in acknowledging Nick’s presence.

“There’s no point beating yourself up over something you can’t control.” Nick started. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get an answer. He folded the blanket up and set it down next to Danse. He didn’t want to give Danse a reason to reject it. The man needed to know it was available, but still in his control. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ve seen you eat in a while. I know you’re going through some things, but uh. Look, if you want to be left alone and not interact with anyone, I can understand that. You still need to eat though, and you should get out of this cold.” Nick licked his lips. It was such a stupid instinctual motion, there was no saliva or chapped skin to make the effort worthwhile but from time to time, he found himself doing it anyway. “I’ll um, I’ll have Holly set something aside for you for supper. Just, come in whenever you're hungry. Well, even if you're not.”

“Why do you care?” Nick bucked in surprise, even though he knew he should have half expected a response like this from Danse. 

“Someone’s got to.” Nick said pointedly, knowing it wasn’t an answer the Paladin wanted to hear. “Look Danse, you’re a soldier. You have a strong will to survive. You’ll get through this.”

“That’s right. I am a soldier. Which again, is why I ask. Why do you care?” Danse’s cold glare leveled on Nick. “I am your enemy, a Brotherhood of Steel soldier! And you have me here at a tactical advantage. Instead of going in for the kill, you sit here and try and coddle me as if we’re friends! We’re not!”

Nick could do nothing but sigh at Danse’s clueless nature. It was in irritation, it was also in defeat.

“Half my experiences, my memories come from a world that if we didn’t see eye to eye, it was called a civil disagreement. Not a damn death sentence!” Nick couldn’t help but snarl. This damn world marred everyone; even good meaning people with such ridiculous senses of justice. A life for an eye, everywhere in this godforsaken world, justice was a life for an eye.  
“Do you really expect me to be that petty? To kick you when you’re already down! What the hell good would that do? And don’t you think we have enough of that in this world already? If folks would spend half that time doing the right thing rather than just browbeating someone they didn’t like, or killing each other because- heaven forbid they got offended, hell we might even be halfway to restoring a decent civilization by now!” Nick then gnarled darkly, pointedly. “Look Danse, I don’t kick folks while they’re down! I got better things to do with my time.”

 

Nick turned to walk away. He was annoyed but he said his piece.

“Valentine!”

Nick stopped cold. Danse had called him by his name! Not as ‘thing’, or ‘synth’ but by his actual name. It was the first Nick had ever heard of it. He turned to look but he hid his surprise.

“When you say memories, your experiences, you mean from the Institute don’t you!” Danse stood, disregarding the blanket, disregarding Nick’s attempts at trying to help him. Danse seemed to have another rush of fury in him.

“The Institute? The Boogeyman? What in God’s name makes you think I would know anything about them?” 

“Don’t lie to me synth. They built you and clearly for one purpose only. There’s no way you’d have these skills unless they designed you to be their spy!”

“In case you forgot, all synths are built by the Institute. My memories, were erased just like everyone else’s. I am not some Institute lackey if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Don’t-”

“And what do you remember Danse? I could take a guess: zilch, nadda! You don’t think the Institute thought this through? Even if it wasn’t the Institutes doing, then anyone with half a brain would have those memories erased themselves.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“No synth wants to remember the torture they endured.” Nick was very careful to control the waver in his voice.

“Torture? My understanding was that the Institute built synths to do work: ground clearing, building projects. You got an absurd idea of what torture is.” 

“Idea’s not mine. If you didn’t always have three inches of steel around your head maybe you would be a little more open minded. These synths- most of them are good people just trying to get away from something bad.”

“Don’t patronize me synth! And the only good synth, is a dead one!”

“You’re talking about yourself, remember!” 

It was enough to make Danse back off a step but his sneer grew deeper. 

Nick found himself shaking his head. So much zealotry and holier than thou attitude when Danse’s knowledge was so scant. 

“You think so many synths escape the institute because it’s simply unpleasant?! C’mon Danse, you’re better than that. Whenever you remove humanity from something, there’s always the risk of abuse. Slavery’s not even the tip of the iceberg. What I’m talking about is the stuff that goes on behind the curtain.The things nobody talks about. How women and men are preyed upon. They’re demoralized. Under constant fear of being erased or killed just because some Institute goon thinks their smile looked too real!”   
Nick tisked out a sound of disgust.   
“Stories I’ve heard. Some- they’re forced to be used as sex toys. They’re raped, Danse. Locked up in some- broom closet somewhere and having to endure every whim of their torturer without an expression on their face, because if they showed any signs of humiliation or horror then it’s as good as a signing their own death warrant! Knowing day in and day out that they have no recourse to what happens to them. Hell we should be giving these people a medal, not shooting them on sight! But would anyone take the time to understand why they do it? Why they run? It’s so much easier to just blame them for all the bad things that go wrong. Why not, they got no say there, why should we give them a say here?”

Danse straightened. He had not expected the synth to launch in such a charged tirade. It was so charged it seemed- personal. Nick struggled to control his agitation. He leveled it but he wasn’t done. His shouting tone subsided but the emotion, the frustration in his voice still reverberated in his words as he continued. 

“You know, I met this synth once; watched him die after they had diseased and -poisoned him! He risked running while practically on his own deathbed just to get away from the constant humiliation- the radiation burns, the sickness- all torture! For what? For some sick scientific advancement, in all their glorious wisdom of the Institute! Just to die up here. Just to get shot!?” 

“You- hate the Institute.” Danse realized, stunned that their cut in the wool handy work could have such a loathing of his makers.

“Well I sure as hell don’t like them!’ Nick spat. Nick could see that Danse was trying to read his expression, not that it was hard at this point. There was a lot of personal grief in there, more than just some hearsay of what other synths endured. He realized how open he was being. He usually tried to avoid it, having learned to keep his mouth shut about his opinions in so many situations. But now he was off blabbing on to some- as Danse would view it- adversary. Nick ground his teeth and spat out an irritated breath. Then he turned to leave. His fury was compartmentalized, but he misjudged Danse’s.

“I’m not done with you!” Danse rushed up and grabbed Nick’s shoulder and threw him into the tree. “So if you’re not with the Institute, then who?” The synth still had ties somewhere. This scope of personal interest didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Besides that rant didn’t answer any of his questions about how Danse ended up with the Brotherhood. If it wasn’t the Institute who placed him in to be a sleeper agent then there was only one other that could be at fault here.   
“You. You’re with the RailRoad?” Danse surmised. 

“Are you really that thick?” Nick seethed. “I’m a free agent. I’m not with anyone.” Nick ripped Danse’s grip away.

“Fine.” Danse’s allowed Nick to put some distance between them. “Keep your secrets. You can take them to your grave.” Nick turned in alarm. He stared at the soldier while a surge of artificial adrenaline swirled into his coolant. Normally that would have been a threat upon Danse’s lips. Instead the soldier turned to pick up his belongings, disregarding the blanket all together, and headed up the hill. Nick glowered. After a rage filled bark of irritation, he stormed back to the settlement. At this point, he didn't care. Danse could leave his own damn fate up to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang dudes, been crazy busy on life in general. I'm still cranking out this story, it's just taken a little bit of a back burner position. Hopefully when it's colder I'll be able to throw more time into it so I don't have spans of months between chapters. Well, between chunks of chapters, I like to have several written before I submit anything.

Danse had walked over the hill to the other side where the old tattered road left it’s impression in history. He had the mindset to just walk away, right then and there. He had his jacket on his two fingers, resting up on his shoulder. His water canteen in his other hand and his pistol strapped at his side. So many could survive on less. Maybe he planned on it. Maybe he finally felt like he didn’t deserve to wear the Brotherhood of Steel’s steel that had always felt like a part of him. Normally he’d never be out of eyesight of his power armor but now that he was a detestable synth, unworthy of it, maybe it was best if he just left it. His eyes fell upon the road ahead of him.

He wondered how far he could get before nightfall. 

“Hey!” He heard a woman’s voice call out from behind. Danse knitted his brow before turning to see who the voice belonged to. It was the woman with the long dark hair. “You okay?” She asked as she slowed her trot behind him. She must have ran the entire way but seemed to have a good handle on her breathing.

“I don’t know.” Danse uttered quickly. He turned away but not before noticing how the wind picked up her long strands of hair and danced it about her face.

“Why is that thing even here? Why does it have to keep bothering us?” Her voice darkened, “you know, you’re stronger than that thing is. I think if need be, you could win in a fight against it.” Danse didn’t respond. He wasn’t as concerned with ending the synth’s existence anymore. It was aggravating, but not a threat. What he ignored, was that she handed him a very blatant suggestion. What she said next however was something he couldn’t ignore.   
“So, you’re a synth.”

The hairs raised on his neck as he realized why she was following him. He turned back towards her, ready for anything. 

“What of it?”

“Oh, it’s just- I didn’t recognize you is all.” Danse was reeling, then he started to realize what was happening. She was totally oblivious to the danger she was putting herself in to. “My designation was- is D2-86.” She was studying him, he could sense it. Danse clenched his jaw and swallowed.   
“No? That’s okay, there’s been so many memory wipes lately, it’s hard to keep everyone straight. I’d much prefer to be called Lacy anyway. So, what’s your designation? Maybe I will recognize it.”

“I don’t have one.” Danse coldly responded.

“Oh.” Lacy’s eyes widened. Her brow then furrowed as she tried to put the pieces together. “Then-”

Danse was clenching his jaw in raging fury, either at himself or at her presence, he didn’t care. 

“I am a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin! Just because I found out I’m a synth will never change that fact!” He wanted her to make a move. Unfortunately for him, she looked so harmless.

“I see.” The glow in her eyes faded. “So I guess you were one of the ‘lucky’ ones then. I thought everything was supposed to be better once you had your memories erased. Given a chance to be normal.” She sighed. “I’m so tired of being scared, but, I guess it doesn’t matter what we do. We never escape from this, do we?” 

It was then, Danse realized that he didn’t know if he could go through with his protocol. Damn that plastic and metal synth to hell! Danse twisted away and looked up at the sky. He hated all of this. This girl sure as hell didn’t seem like she warranted an execution. That despicable synth was clouding his judgement. It challenged so many of his beliefs and doing so, made him furious and resentful. At the same time, he couldn’t help but consider Nick’s words. 

“You’re not leaving are you? I don’t feel safe with that thing around.” She wrapped her arms around her, either to shield herself from the cold, or her thoughts about the synth. Danse turned back at her in surprise.

“If you’re referring to Nick Valentine then you should know I’m much more of a threat to you than he is.” He wanted to leave, just to turn and walk away from all of this. Instead he sighed and flung his jacket off of his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. He looked at her as she pulled a lock of hair out of her face. He realized she had very attractive features. Long black ebony hair that draped down past the small of her back, wide hips, large oval green eyes, full lips against pale skin. He never noticed before how striking she looked. He then couldn’t help but wonder what she endured in the institute. If anything that synth told him was true then there was a possibility. Damn that synth! Danse clenched his fists, he needed to focus.

“I still feel in my heart that I’m a Brotherhood soldier. As such it is my duty to follow my creed. That involves killing any synth I discover.”

“Including yourself?” 

“Suicide is considered a cowards way out.” Danse said the words, then hated himself for it. He twisted in frustration. There was much more conflict now that he had to fight with than ever before. It left him in more mental turmoil than he ever had to deal with in his life. At least when he had to put Cutler down, it was a simple dilemma. It was straight forward. Cutler had ceased to exist when he became a supermutant. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore! Nora wants me to live and I see her fulfilling so much of the Brotherhood’s ideals, but if she let me live, how do I know where her loyalty lies? Letting me live was a mistake! But I don’t know if I should- correct it- if that would be dishonorable? Honorable. I feel like everything I ever knew is in question!” Danse turned and rested his weight on the decrepit vehicle that found its resting point here. 

“Just do what you think feels right.” She told him, stepping towards him. 

“I don’t- I-”

“Here.” She took his hands. At first her eyes examined the rawness on his skin, brushing across it with her thumb. Then she gently placed them around her neck. His hands were hot compared to her cool neck. His expression changed to horror as he felt how frail her neck was. His rough thumbs dragged across her smooth pale skin. How easily her life could be strangled out of it, but she seemed oddly at ease with her demise. Maybe it wasn’t that different when he told Nora to put that bullet in his head. Danse watched as her head drifted back, optimizing the surface area for his thick hands. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“No!” Danse tore his hands away and stepped back.

Her eyes opened. “See, deep down you do know.” She reached out and took his hand in hers, even if he wasn’t receptive. “No matter how many times they wipe your memories, or whatever memories they give you, always listen here.” Her other hand pressed against his heart.  
“This will never lie to you.”

Danse opened his mouth to say something but she turned away from him. As he found he couldn’t find anything to say she was already heading back towards the treeline and to the Slog. Danse stood gawking. He returned to lean on the car as he watched her depart. He really wished that was Nora just now. Then he wouldn’t feel so guilty for the mixed emotions that he was feeling. Nora was the first person he ever really expressed how he felt. She was the only one he felt that he could trust. If anything he really felt like he needed that trust and wisdom to understand what he was going through now. Or at least, snap at him to stay focused.

So instead he waited until he reached an unbearable chill. By then it had gotten dark. He also realized; he was fairly hungry.

When he walked into the dark room, everyone had already retired for the evening. The only sign of life- or rather activity- was Nick. Sitting in one of the armchairs he was quietly reading to himself next to the candle light. The synth’s gaze lifted up. He regarded Danse, but said nothing. After a moment in silence, he went back to reading. As Nick promised, one of the ghouls had left their meal preparations out for him. It was some sort of corn baked casserole. If there was anything to be said about the Slog, it was that it out-shined the rest of the Commonwealth when it came to old world comforts. Many of these ghouls had prewar knowledge. Danse could easily say that their cooking was the best he ever had, and this was the only settlement that he knew of that had functioning, hot showers. 

Danse took a seat on the couch sitting cater-cornered from Nick Valentine. They both sat in silence. The only thing that kept them from pure solitude was the scraping of the fork against the plate and the occasional flip of a book page.

That is how they sat for that next half hour; tolerating each others presence in the darkness. 

It- wasn’t as bad as Danse had anticipated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, still slow going with writing... OW is a beast, and ya' know Halloween edition is a thing ((Loot boxes!! For the skins I want but will never get))..plus mask making on the side takes up a lot of time. Shameless plug, Go to facebook /artistcurse if your curious as to what I've been up to.

Nick blinked as he studied the soldier. The dynamics once again shifted.

Danse was still sans power armor, but despite the leary disposition of the folks here at the Slog, Danse was treading the tolerance very well. By now he was back to patrolling the inside the perimeter with barely a bat of a cautious eye. It turns out the stick in the mud soldier was more of an empathetic man than Nick gave credit to. First he had expected Danse to simply browbeat everyone into submission wearing that Brotherhood of Steel coat while threatening with the most powerful combat training in the what’s-left USA, leaving folks too frightened to lift a gun or even talk about Danse in his presence. For if history taught anything, and Nick could glean two life times worth, was that it was hard to simply talk prejudice away. Most police states wouldn’t even try, instead relying on brute force to keep the populous subdued.

Instead Danse used a tactic that seemed very inline with what Nick’s modus operandi was. He didn’t hide what he was, and by leaving his suit of armor parked, he showed a level of vulnerability. Vulnerable enough to bring him down to the same level as those who feared him. Which meant he could be killed, which was unnerving in itself, but Nick was damn impressed Danse would take that risk as opposed to ruling the people here with an iron fist. That was surely the law of the land Danse knew for whatever time he spent in the Brotherhood of Steel’s ranks, but this absolutely proved that Danse was his own person. Just maybe, that’s what the folks here at the Slog saw too. For after two days of this, the cautious stares and tightening of fingers on triggers as Danse walked by lessened. Danse kept his protocol and with that he kept the familiarity that everyone had expected. That’s not to say that it was smooth sailing of course, and whenever fury did threaten to show itself, Danse was very calm and very direct about what the expectations were if a fight were to break out. He was very clear that though Danse may be a synth, he was a trained soldier first. Danse would still kowtow his Brotherhood of Steel role if he needed to. That he was tough, brazen and afraid of nothing. It was a pretty powerful threat that kept even the most outspoken a bit skittish. But Danse put more emphasis that he was here to do good, even if it was in the Brotherhood’s name, much to Nick’s chagrin. 

Though this had an unexpected result; Danse had made friends, whether or not the Paladin realized this or not was another matter. What Nick noticed was that two humans hovered around Danse at a time when it was fashionable to disregard the man as anything other than a monstrous synth. They were also naive to the hard stance the BoS took when it came to anything that wasn’t unadulterated human. It was just as Nick had suspected, the synths would stick together. Even if he seriously needed to reconsider ‘the who’ in this mess. Nick had good instincts, but that didn’t mean they weren’t infallible. 

He would have never guessed Danse; yet straight out of the horse’s mouth the truth was lain bare. The new ones to emerge was a black haired vixen named Lacy and a redheaded man named Johnny. They seemed to be the other two synths the RailRoad had suspected hiding here. Nick wasn’t sure about the ghoul anymore. He still found her behaviors suspicious, but then again, the ghoul could simply be grappled by paranoia from past persecution of another manner. Yet the way she seemed to take a keen interest in the trio, and a wary eye on Nick, it sent a weird current across his circuits. This wasn’t the time to push it however, not when he needed to be ready in case all hell broke loose. In a way, there was some ironic humor here. Danse really had him on the verge of tucking tail and running for fear that a blatant synth presence might provoke an altercation. Danse was handling the situation fine now, but all eyes seemed to always fall upon Nick for guidance just before guns were returned to their holsters. It put heavy pressure on him. Now he felt stuck. Nick couldn’t leave, not with the risk of bloodshed breaking out for the same very reason, just different players. 

Nick had wanted to find a way to get the settlement to openly talk about synths and their presence in the Commonwealth, but he wasn’t sure this was the ticket he wanted. The remaining humans seemed completely hostile to the knowledge. The ghouls were faring better but they still swallowed their fair share of this anti-synth sentiment gleaned from traveling caravans. He knew that Jones and Deirdre placated Danse’s presence per Valentine's requests. Wiseman was a hard read. If anything Nick knew for sure it was that the detective’s life wasn’t easy, and sometimes to figure out a case it would take a hell of a lot longer than one would like. And he never could quite place how he kept getting himself into these situations. Maybe he should have started an agency of peacekeeping instead. 

 

Now Holly wanted to ask Danse something but in order to do so, rounded up Nick and pleaded with him to be her middleman. 

“Why don’t you just ask him yourself?” It really wasn’t a question but a push. Instead Holly locked up, making a noise of reluctance and shuttering into a little timid ball. 

“Please?”

Nick sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” She groveled before scampering away. Nick turned to look for the man in question only to be startled that Danse was already standing near him, eyes steadfast, presumably already having heard the conversation. There was a sullen look of sadness cast across his face.

“They’re afraid of me.” Danse muttered softly, sourly. It had only been three days but defeat had already set in the man’s eyes.

“Well sure. You’re a brotherhood soldier after all. That’s about as intimidating as it gets.”

With those words, Danse looked up at him with a presumptuous look on his face. He replied with a snort and a shake of his head. Maybe even a half hidden smirk. If Nick were to read it, he figured it was one of two things. Perceived naivety on Nick’s part, or perhaps it was a forgotten agreement. Something that Danse momentarily forgot while getting caught up in his moment of exposure. Either way, Holly wanted to know about Nora’s whereabouts in regards to trade. It brought up something Nick was certainly concerned about. Nora’s goings ons as of late in general. He figured Danse would be too, unless he heard otherwise.

 

“Say, you haven’t heard from Nora have you? Nobody here has. I was wondering if maybe you had more luck.” Danse seemed to consider it for a moment. Likely considering if he could tolerate having a simple conversation with a synth that didn’t involve an interrogation chamber. 

“No.” Danse finally admitted. “Last I heard she was returning to the Institute.” Nick nodded, finding himself more in agreement to the weariness in Danse’s voice. Then, something surprising happened. 

“I’m worried.” Danse began to express his concern. “She’s been spending more and more time there, and- honestly I’m worried she’s falling away from Brotherhood of Steel’s mission.”

“Yeah, well, she was given an order to murder one of her closest friends. I could see how that would strain the relationship a bit.” Again Nick received a look. It was likely shock, disappointment or a heartfelt consideration. He couldn’t tell if what he said was something helpful or hurtful to his cause. To be honest, if the Vault Dweller wanted nothing more to do with the Brotherhood of Steel, Nick was fully on board. Even better if he could dissuade Danse, but it wasn’t his place to do so. 

“Despite that, I’m sure she’s told you what she found. In the Institute?”

“Well, I hear that the grass is greener on the other side. Always is. But as the old adage goes, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. I’m sure she’ll see through all that.”

“That’s- not what I’m talking about. Her son. About infiltrating the Institute to find him. My understanding is that you had a crucial role to play in that.”

Nick stiffened. He was glad to be able to finally hold a conversation with the Paladin without a clout of hostility between them but, in regards to Nora, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel if Danse had information about Shaun that he himself didn’t not. Worse, he didn’t know if that would be something Danse would hold over his head.

“Yeah.” Nick answered slowly, then responded to the previous question. “No.” Nick found his voice ridged. “I asked- but she didn’t want to talk about it. I assumed he was dead.”

“He’s not.” For a moment it left Nick tight jawed. A tendril of fear inched up his circuits. As to why she would tell Danse but not him, he didn’t know. He braced himself for any ploy Danse would use at his disposal. Instead Danse was straight forward; honest. “Nora had been in cryo for the past sixty years. She found out her son had not.”

“Sixty?” Nick’s brow furrowed. “But- she’s been on ice for two hundred. You better re-” His mental cogs clicked. It took another moment to sink. “Huh.” He paused examining the pieces.   
“Sixty years.” Nick found himself digging for a cigarette. Maybe that’s why she didn’t tell him. After all this time they were looking for a baby or a ten year old boy, maybe she didn’t want to bring him down with the news that she found her son- as an old man.

“He’s now older than she is. However, she found her blood ties she was looking for. And it get’s worse.” Danse paused, grounding himself.   
“He’s the head of the Institute.” The revelation was enough to tear Nick away from his pockets. “If she couldn’t kill me, how do I know she will have the resoluteness to take on the Institute?!”

Nick searched for his voice while his mind searched for an answer. Before he could respond, there was a cry in the distance.

“Courser!” It was Lacy who screamed it. She had been out collecting wild herbs. Now she barreled towards the Slog as fast as her legs could carry her. “There’s a Courser!’ She cried out again, this time pricked ears were able to pinpoint her direction. A moment later she emerged from around the north corner of the building. Her charge didn’t come to a stop until she was mere paces away from Danse. 

“Please you have to do something!” She was overcome with fear and panting from the exertion. “You can’t let them take us away! Please Danse! You have to stop them! I can’t go back! Please, I don’t want to go back! Please! Danse please! You're the only one who can stop them!” As she pleaded the tears streaming down her face momentarily negated his knowledge that Lacy was a synth. But before he could say anything, whizzes of shots fired grazed through the air. Danse, Nick and Lacy dropped to the ground.

“We’re under attack!” It was Deirdre's voice that rang out next. All eyes scanned the horizon to see bright blue pulses of light dot across the farm. Then as the light sizzled and scattered away, armed mechanical dolls emerged from their place.

“Get inside!” Danse yelled to Lacy. He then charged the nearest plastic soldier. Nick bolted as well, targeting enemies in the opposite direction.

Slipping behind cover, Danse pulled up his gun, expelling his own energy blasts into a number of the unwanted guests. Johnny, wide eyes ablaze, took to his feet from hiding between the corn stalks and grabbed Lacy who had been frozen in fear and pushed her towards the building. In the chaos Nick tried to reach the south side of the building. Ghouls were scattering for cover, another human darted into the building. In the moment, Nick paid no attention to who was fighting and who fled to hide.

“Guard the perimeter!” Danse waved at any armed settler in his sight. His heavy gun lifted to the ready taking out any plastic machine he could see. What concerned him more however, was the Coursers.   
“Where? Where did she see the Courser?” He shouted to anyone who could hear him over the gunfire.

One of the worker ghouls ran up to Danse. In a panted breath he pointed north at the disheveled bridge in the distance. “That way! She was coming from that way!” 

Danse immediately bounded that way to intercept the enemy but gunfire erupted from another corner. Not at the North corner of the building where the direction had been indicated, instead from the South. The direction Nick took to. 

Nick rounded the corner while picking off any model of synth that looked like a more pristine version of him. When he saw the two combatants on the road, he froze. It was Jones shooting at one of the humans. Nick stood there momentarily swimming in confusion. Then it hit him.

“Infiltrators?” Nick spat in rage. Without hesitation the round in his pistol collided with the man’s shoulder. When the man dropped, Nick looked Jones in the eyes. This new world forced his hand time and time again, he had learned that hesitation was a death sentence. Still he needed to know if he did the right thing; that he didn’t just take down an ally. Jones responded by finishing off the infiltrator with a short burst of fire. 

Nick turned to take out more easy to identify enemies. He used the wild mulberry bushes as cover while the synths turned their attentions to him. It was poor cover. And the problem with this plasticy body of his, and all the patchwork done, sometimes he couldn’t tell if he was hit or not. Right now, he didn’t have time to check. He slowly worked his way through several synths, and just as he did, five more teleported in to take their place. Nick swore under his breath as he reloaded. 

Danse hovered the corner as he tried to plot the best way to get to his power armor. He left it by the playground and while trying to reach it, finally spotted the Courser. Most of the ghouls took to holding off the swimming pool as the steep ledges offered some cover. One ran towards the Courser. Danse waited for the expected chaos to steal the best tactical advantage. Instead what he heard wasn’t sounds of combat, it was worse.

“So I did good right?” A raspy voice from the ghoul could be heard. As asneer formed on his face, Danse carefully looked around the corner to see which ghoul betrayed them. It was the one buried in garments, including a face mask that hide her features.   
“The two synths are here. And that goon from the Brotherhood, he’s one too! And that detective from Diamond City, they’re all here, but I didn’t let on that we’re on to them. I did good right? Yeah! Tell me I did good.”

“Disgusting,” Danse growled under his breath, livid that worse than betraying everyone here, halfway through a gunfight she’d stop to chit talk with the monster for some worthless praise!

“Very good. You’ve done well.” 

Danse loaded another clip as he pulled out bits and pieces of the conversation amongst the zipping of bullets striking concrete cover around him. 

“Unfortunately, word of this kind cannot reach the Institute.” Just as Danse lined up his rifle to the Courser, a loud pop and the ghoul collapsed to the ground. When the Courser killed the ghoul, the unexpectedness of that caused Danse’s shot to go wide giving away his position. The Courser’s eyes locked onto his new target: Danse. Danse lobbed two more blasts for cover fire as he ducked behind the wall.   
“Shit.” Danse barked to himself as the corner wall sprayed gravel at his back.

Nick broke from the bushes and made his way to more practical cover. He rushed to the main door of the building and ducked inside. After cracking off a couple shots he paused when the eerie quiet of the dark building seemed rather- unsettling. Even though the outside thundered on, in the inside, there was a deafening quiet. Far too quiet for anything good to become of it. 

Nick’s intuitive circuits wrenched. He couldn’t place it, but something wasn’t right about this. He expected to see a handful of humans or human looking synths cowering in the corner, behind a table, under a bed. 

There was nothing. Breaking from the battle he searched the two adjoining rooms. In the last room, there was a pistol lying openly on the floor and a small puddle of blood. A stark reality hit him. If there was an Infiltrator, the whole thing could have been a setup. 

He charged out the back door hoping he just missed them. From there he could hear the outside battle quiet down. As he looked out through the open doors of the front side, he only saw ghouls holded up and one human. The human was going commando style with a shotgun in hand. He was firing towards the building and at something Nick couldn’t see. Nick ducked for cover suspecting he didn’t want to get into the crossfire as a shell pelted into the wall.

The cement next to his head exploded. Danse looked up to see that for a brief moment, a human on the far side of the pool taking potshots at Danse as the ghouls were working to reclaim ammo for their guns. He didn’t take even a moment’s pause to consider why he was shooting at him. He simply returned several volleys until he was dead. Then to his dread, felt the presence of the Courser to his side. Danse twisted just in time to feel a fist connect with his throat. He stumbled back with just his sheer willpower to hold him steady past the pain and inability to breath from the hit. Danse raised his weapon, but the Courser was hidden beneath a stealthboy.

 

“Brotherhood huh? Let’s try this. M7-97 initialize factory reset.”

“No!” Danse’s voiceless whimper croaked past the raw throat as he reeled in horror, hearing this once before when Nora had the gall to parade out a Courser in front of him. Tactical information she had reminded him. And the Courser was fool enough to brag to a Brotherhood of Steel soldier, peddling off several secrets. Danse did his best to learn what he could from the enemy. Enough that he knew of what was going to happen next. 

 

“Gamma, 5, 5, 2, Omega.”

In horror a flash of code flittered in front of his eyes. Danse took a step back as fear welled over him, then the pain in his throat faded, everything went black. 

“There gone!” Nick howled as he stepped outside. “They’re just gone!” Although he knew better. Teleported away, now almost everyone knew of the Institutes slippery methods of departure. 

“Danse?” Nick saw the soldier standing there. Something wasn’t right, seeing the way his head was slopped down across his chest. “Danse!?” He repeated again, louder this time. The shooting had stopped and the survivors were busy picking themselves up and tending to the wounded. Nick ran over to Danse, grabbing his chin and trying to shake Danse awake.   
“Danse!” Nick snarled. “The hell. What the hell happened?” More forceful now he grabbed Danse’s lapels and tried shaking him to. In a sharp breath, Nick reeled his plastic coated hand, and cracked a backhand on the flat of Danse’s cheek. A move that surely would get him killed if Danse could come to. Somehow the fact that Danse didn’t was even more disturbing. Nick took a step with deep lines etched in his brow, then out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Courser emerge out of a wave of thin air. Before he could react an electric prod made contact in the center of his back. He screamed as his whole body convulsed. Then he slumped to the ground as steam billowed off of his body. Through spinning vision he saw the ghouls rebound for another attack but before they could, a swirling wave of energy spread around his body. A throbbing hum rumbled through him as a bright light flashed like a lightning bolt. Nick lost consciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFreakingGAWWWDDDD!!!
> 
> This took Forever!! I'm so sorry T_T - I've just been so busy with things..and if I did actually have the moment to sit down and write..I was either too exhausted or too burnt out to actually do so. And of course, when I did want to write..I was busy!  
> Other things is that this was such a cobbled up chapter. So many bits and pieces that I wrote up a long time ago when I had the chance..but as the story shifts slightly then I have to go back and like keep using all the wonderful fun phrases I liked..yet somehow having to TOTALLY rework them to fit. That takes much longer than I thought. So This stuff has been reworked a thousand ways from Tuesday and so i fear this will be TERRIBLE in likes of grammar and English in general. But hey, it's done so...  
> Whooooooooooo
> 
> So, is this a long chapter? It better be a long chapter.

It was like he wasn’t even there. That he was watching himself from the outside as they told him to strip and change into their Institute jumpsuit. He didn’t put up a fight, he wasn’t even restrained, he just did- as he was told. There was no emotion: no sense of pride when he stripped his Brotherhood of Steel suit off; no sense of insecurity as he stood there exposed in front of them; no sense of rage when he adorned a garment he so very much despised; he simply accepted that he had no free will of his own. 

Then he was walked back towards his ten by ten glass enclosure. Below him, Nick Valentine was lain out on the floor either unconscious or deactivated. Danse couldn’t find the curiosity to determine which. And when they ordered him to get in, he did as he was told. He took the step up into his cell, turned to face the opening and watched as they sealed him in. The scientists then returned to retrieve their next participants: Lacy and Johnny. They were walked to the cell to his right. It was the same, they walked in as ordered, and locked up without protest. They too had no sense of free will. 

Danse returned his gaze forward. In the back-right of the room a metal door likely led to sleeping quarters, to the left was a stairway that led up to what looked like an observation deck. The scientists split up into two then disappeared behind those two doors. Then with nothing else to gaze at or no orders to be given, Danse’s mind drifted away. 

It returned when he heard a scowling cry and a sharp clench of force on his shoulders.

“God damnit!” The echoing cry in his head was coming from Nick Valentine. It took a moment to realize that the synth was frantically shaking him, trying to arouse him to something better than standing there like statuary. Danse slowly turned his head to see him, but unsatisfied, Nick broke away to pace to the other side of the room. There he examined Lacy and Johnny through the glass wall: statues. All of them. 

Exasperated he called out again. “What the hell did they do to them!” 

“It’s the result of a reset.” The captive synth to Danse’s left answered. Nick came charging back.

“What reset?”

The synth didn’t explain. However, Danse knew exactly which reset he was referring to. He realized he remembered everything. His life in the Brotherhood, his struggles in the Commonwealth, meeting Nora, the blind betrayal, his retreat to the Slog, and finally the attack on the Ghoul’s settlement. At the end of the attack, an Institute Courser used a shutdown command that was buried deep within his internal subroutines. Danse furrowed his brow ever so slightly. He sensed that something was wrong with him. That even the basic acknowledgment of him being a synth should have knotted the muscles in his chest and for his blood to boil. Yet as of right now, Danse felt nothing regarding it. No remorse, no anger, no hopelessness or rage towards those who built him or what he was. His emotions were as flat as the synth’s voice next to him, whom after a moment added a bit more caution.

“If the scientists were to run their tests on them, pray that they do so while still under the effects. It will be better than if they were fully awake.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“This is temporary?” Danse asked instead, which garnered a sterile nod from the synth. 

“Danse!” Valentine’s voice sounded- exuberantly relieved compared the hostile tone he held just a breath ago. “You okay?! You alright, kid?” Danse felt the synth embrace him with one hand taking hold of his head, the other on his shoulder. He was then given a reassuring squeeze with a slightly rough shake. When Danse eyed the bare mechanical hand rested upon his body, the synth instantly let go, drawing back, knowing that the touch was forbidden.

“I’m fine.” Danse dismissed it, if only because he couldn’t feel any agitation against it.  
“Where are we?” Looking around, the scale of the room was staggering. It held several ten by ten glass cells and several pieces of equipment that looked medical in nature. While large, there were no windows in this facility, which suggested they were likely underground. 

Nick sighed wearily. “Best I can tell, some kind of research lab.” Nick turned away, his eyes locking onto the three figures that were walking to the center of the room.

“The institute.” Danse added.

“No. Too dirty. Still postapocalyptic. We’re out in the wastes still.” Nick took a moment to get a general sense of the room. “But this definitely has Institute written all over it.” 

Nick’s gaze then resettled back to the three scientists. They scuttled around their medical equipment turning power on to large computers, checking cords and connections. One woman walked up to Johnny’s cell and ordered the redheaded man to step forward. He was then brought up to a device covered by a thick canvas. In a swift motion the cloth was swept away revealing a smooth, metal slab in the shape of a recliner with jutting metal daggers down the center. It was some sort of chair Danse noted, though he could barely comprehend how anyone could actually sit on it. At best it looked like a torture device. 

“Oh god!” Nick’s breath hitched and he tensed at the sight of it. A memory, weathered from time, suddenly rejuvenated itself back into full horrifying detail. In that bygone vision Nick looked down to see his wrists strapped to that chair. His right hand, at the time pure and unadulterated plastic, pulled against the bondage. Then a sharp and unpleasant sensation drove deep within his skull causing his back to curl. He twisted his head up, feebly trying to escape. All it did was give him the view of all the hovering scientists obscured by a bright, blinding light. His mind flushed when he recalled the pain that followed. Nick gasped and stumbled back, collapsing into the wall barely catching himself before falling to the floor.   
“No,” he whimpered. 

Danse realized his assumption of a torture device may be correct when he caught the horrified look on Nick’s face. Out of all the times he tried to emote even the slightest ounce of fear in the synth, one swift glance at the device evoked a type of wide eyed panic he only dreamed of seeing. As many times as Danse tried and failed to even remotely get under that silicone skin of his, he never seen Nick afraid before. Not like this. Pity this wasn’t the time or the state to enjoy it.

“No, no, no, no no!” Nick suddenly bolted towards the front of his enclosure. Turning back to the scientists, Danse saw why. Johnny was being strapped down. First his legs, then arms, then a band around his hips and chest; lastly a leather strap tightened down across his head. Nick cracked his fists into the glass. He tried to yell out to them to stop, to demand for the boy’s attention, but it was to no avail.  
“Oh god, no.” Nick mouthed, nearly weeping the words. 

One of the scientists grabbed a metal lever and thrust it into position, the daggers jettisoned into the boy’s back and skull. Johnny shrieked as the pain quickly overcame his diminished sense of being. Danse felt his body flinch when he heard the audible crunch of the boy’s skull. Nick seemed to have taken it as a physical hit. He nearly toppled, catching his mouth with his hand. Another fury of emotions unlocked from the deepest trenches of dormant memories. He squeezed his eyes shut as a barrage of horrible visions swam into his consciousness. If that hadn’t been bad enough, now he had the horror of watching this tragedy being inflicted on another. Danse noted, that when Valentine claimed to know nothing about what went on in the Institute, it wasn’t truthful.

On the slab Johnny frantically fought against his straps. The rest of the room had reacted to the screams as well. Now there was a muffled silence as eyes and minds desperately tried to turn off the horror. All except for Valentine, whose rage now turned to frantic attacking of his glass enclosure in his attempt to break out, to get to the boy, to threaten any maniac who would dare harm him. To Danse’s left, the monotoned synth observed without an expression on his face. It was quickly realized that it was misleading. A tear presented itself in the corner of the synth’s eye. Then it trickled down his cheek and came to a rest before breaking off at the line of his jaw. The synth reached up and tested the fluid, nearly confused as to what he found. When he realized Danse was watching him, he quickly scrubbed it away, and swallowed down the emotions he was already effectively hiding. His roommate had a different response. His hands were clasped tightly over his ears, screaming in sobs to drown out Johnny’s pain. Danse glanced over to Lacy. She made eye contact with him as well. Her emotions, like his, were still subdued but surfacing.

 

“This is horrible.” Danse muttered logically. It was one thing to build these abominations at their disposal with no regard to anything, but there was a level of cruelty to subjugate all their creations to watch while these barbaric procedures were done to them. Then the gravity of the situation bared down on him. 

Danse cognitively knew what emotions should have been storming his body now, how much affright he should be feeling, and yet he found their absence barely alarming. So this was the true nature of the cognitive reset. When he first heard of it, he suspected it would have been a total memory wipe or a state of mental voidness. What this was, was worse. Without the presence of even the faintest amount of emotion, he could see how this could be considered a docile state. With his emotions gone, another strange clarity presented itself. All this time he suspected that this perception of Nick Valentine was an act. False emotions propagated by a synthetic machine to fool the populace for control. He of course wished from time to time that he could truly enforce a sense of fear in the synth, but he always assumed that it was simply wishful thinking. However watching Nick now, in a state where emotions were out of control, he could appreciate the level of detail that went into Nick Valentine’s outward perception. Even down to the tense lock of nonexistent muscle behind the synth’s curled lip or the surprise it threw to Danse when it realized Danse’s seemingly blissful freedom from emotions.

 

It was hell for Nick to be the only one who seemed to sense the gravity of the situation. Most of the others in this room had accepted their fate. Maybe likely already experienced it, and lost to the hopeless arrangement they found themselves in. But Lacy and Danse, they were somehow made to be lambs led to the slaughter, just like Johnny was. To watch as the boy walked to his terrible fate passive and doe eyed, there was no other way to describe it. Now when they finally returned the boy to his cell, he was whimpering and holding his head. He had been put into the throws of torture that he was unable to avoid. Nick did his damndest to try and console the boy. Trying to tell him to hang in there, that maybe somehow it was going to be okay. It sounded so damned hollow. 

“It’s not good enough!” A shrill voice echoed across the room. Up in the observation deck a man was combing through the clipboard that was presented to him. “Let’s do the girl next.”

No one had been in their right mind to notice when several more men had entered the room. The one who spoke was an old man in a dirty gray suit. Alongside him looked like a hired gun. Behind them was a man that Danse and Nick instantly recognized. He was one of the posing humans at the Slog; the Infiltrator. Nick’s breath tightened as he saw the patched up flesh wound just under his chin. If Nick could suspect anything, it was a grazing wound left from a bullet, when he went in to scoop up Johnny and Lacy from inside the building. The Infiltrator mumbled something to the old man but was promptly put into his place.

“When I want the opinion, it certainly won’t be from a synth!” The old man snarled. “Now, we don’t have all day! Get the girl over to the chair!”

“You son of a bitch!” Nick went into a storm again. “You lay a hand on her-” This time he was cut off by a Courser who had been standing next to their cell.

“And you’ll what?” The voice was mostly monotone, aside from a slight arrogant tone.

“I will get justice. You better damn well believe it! You God damned soul sucking-”

“I’d like to see you try unit. As far as I can tell, you’re on the wrong side of the wall.” The Courser emphasised his words by tapping two hard thuds with his finger onto the glass.   
“As it should be, It seems you’re overdue for a reformation.” That threat drove itself like a stake into Nick’s soul. For a moment, Nick lost his voice and his composure. It left him silent as the scientists ordered Lacy to step out. Lacy couldn’t fight all the effects of their programming, but enough emotion bled through that she was now apprehensive about obeying their every order.

“It’ll hurt.” She pleaded, though her tone was neutral.

“It will. We just need to run some tests. But everything will be okay.”

“No! Don’t do it Lacy.” Nick’s voice strained. She looked at him, contemplating her alternatives. Then the Courser pulled into her cell, he grabbed her by the back of her head and forced her out. 

“Lacy!” Danse breathed. As she was taken to the center of the room Nick turned to any grasp of control he could find; Danse.

“You tell me, you’ll fight!” He grabbed Danse by his collar. The demand was so forceful, he nearly pushed him back into the wall. “Tell me that you won’t let them do this to you!”

Danse looked over Nick’s synthetic eyes before answering. The yellow lights in them were brighter than ever. Nick Valentine was so mechanical he was practically coming apart at the seams and looking deep into his eyes, he could see the halogen tubes and a mechanical cameras, yet Danse realized Nick’s programming was more sophisticated than he initially gave credit to. Danse looked over to see Lacy becoming the next victim to the chair. Nick turned his head to watch her now too, with his hands still clutched to Danse’s clothing. When the lever was grasped, Nick turned his eyes away, shutting them tight trying to ignore the sheathing sounds of metal and wailing cries. For the first time since awaking, Danse could feel adrenaline on his breath.

“I’m a Brotherhood of Steel soldier. It is my duty to fight.” Danse’s tone hardened grabbing Nick’s wrist and forcing him aside. Nick’s watched Danse, hoping to hell his words weren’t simply recited. He then tore away in an exasperated sigh and brought his hand up to cradle his head. He tried desperately to ignore the sounds of the room.

Danse turned his focus onto doing exactly what he was trained to do. He memorized the entire layout of the room. How many scientists were currently on the floor, how many captives- eleven- were stuck in the same glass holdings. Then he determined where his placement was in association to everything else. Even though they were roughly in the center of the room, Johnny’s cell marked the end of the glass enclosures. To his right was an open space that led to an exit through a set of heavy double doors. In the space at the far back of the building, between the door and the examination portion of the room, was a conveyor belt that held several synths on standby. As a soldier he had learned to push emotions back to focus on the situation. Now that he hadn’t needed to, he wasn’t naive to what this lack of emotion meant. It was dangerous. That’s why the Coursers were such a force to be reckoned with. Amongst the Brotherhood, going toe to toe with a Courser and living to tell about it was second best to a Deathclaw when it came to heroic battles. At least Danse was relieved to find his way back to his humanity. And in some ways, he wasn’t. 

Johnny was still huddled up against the wall cradling his head. Under mumbled breaths and labored breathing he was whimpering from the pain inflicted. Danse felt a deep sense of dread wash over him when his eyes trailed the blood stained edges up through the boy’s orangish hair. There seemed to be a haunting familiarity. Danse pushed his fingers through his own dark hair feeling for the skull underneath. It was there that he felt divots that mirrored the drill holes in the boy’s. It was then, he realized the pounding at his temples returned. The migraines he always suffered from. Only his medic was aware of how terrible the drumming pain could get; he was the only one he ever told. He never pieced it together before, but since arriving at the Commonwealth, there seemed to be triggers that made it unbearable. So much so that they almost wanted to remove him from active duty. Danse closed his eyes. He had fought through them, determined to stay on the front lines of the fight. And now that he knew why he had them, it was even more pertinent to take out this enemy. But if he didn’t- he would- he would become one of theirs. Their tool, their device- their slave. That veil of hampered emotions was quickly falling away. He realized he was horrified.

His eyes leveled on the scientists hovering over their creation. At that time, alarm had spread between them. It was clear something wrong was playing out. There were shouts that they were loosing her. Danse’s jaw tightened. In an attempt to save her, they clambered to their research. The noise prompted yet another mercenary to charge into the room.

“What the hell are you doing!” He flew down the stairs and up to the group of scientists. The man looked like a survivor. Someone who was likely in his mid twenties, with over thirty years of wear on his face. He cradled her head before demanding an explanation.

“Oh, what is it now?” The old man whined and came sauntering down the stairwell himself. He looked to be the near polar opposite; someone who never personally got their hands dirty. He was the ripe old age of older than seventy. Something that wasn’t common in the world of survival. Despite the dirty gray suit he somehow kept up with appearances and held up a sense of over entitled sophistication. Nick could have sworn he recognized the man, but he just couldn’t place where. It was the same for the man he now realized was the old man’s body guard. 

“You! I told you! You weren’t supposed to do any experimentation until I got back!”

“You tell me? I think you forget who runs this operation here!” 

“Don’t fuck with me Zimmer! You know I’ve been doing all the research here! If it wasn’t for-”

The old man’s body guard stepped between them halting the dialog.   
“Now that’s enough.” He uttered cooly but sharply to the younger of the two. 

“I think someone is being awfully emotional here, Harkness! It would be a shame if the Institute would have to recalibrate one of their older model Coursers.” Dr. Zimmer tisked. “Which probably wouldn’t be worth while. Deactivation seems more- likely.” 

“You don’t intimidate me.” Harkness spat.

“We were just running a basic diagnostic-” One of the three scientists meekly interrupted, trying to calm the situation.

“Using inundated technology! Have you morons not realized there is a severe compatibility issue with the most current Gen threes? We have a loss ratio of sixty seven percent!” Harkness roared before turning back to Zimmer, then his voice darkened, gritted between his teeth. “Yet you keep on wasting valuable research material!”

“They’re just synths.” Dr. Zimmer shrugged with a voice that was shrill and grating. “The institute will make more. And our team is much better at retrieval so we’ll have all the test subjects we need. Isn’t that why you’re here, A3-21? You once told me you were the only mind bright enough to solve our problem. Yet all I keep seeing is excuses!” 

“So do I. You told me I would have access to the Institute's latest advancements. This shit is sixty years old! Possibly a hundred?! I can’t work with this and you know it!”

“You can. And you will! Now I’ve had enough of this! Just,” he waved off the scientists, “put her back in the cell. Proceed with the next unit!” The old man’s gaze leveled on to Danse. A lump caught Danse’s throat and he struggled to swallow it down. Luckily for him, the sight of Nick seemed to be a helpful distraction.   
“Why the hell is there a Gen two in there?” 

“He’s the detective from the city,” Harkness stepped forward. The old man didn’t notice, but Harkness reached behind an electrical panel. In a swift motion he now brandished a large pipe wrench with an expression that conveyed intention. 

“Oh, that thing? Diamond city’s idiot toy doll? It’s just a synth in a costume! Nothing more.”

“Really? Because as far as I heard, it has a pretty good reputation at finding things. Like these synths! These were all found thanks to him!” Harkness motioned to Danse, Timothy, and Lacy with the wrench.

“What?” Nick snarled under his breath. “No. Don’t you dare pin this on me!”

 

“Don’t be so presumptuous! That thing’s useless technology from a bygone era. A relic. I thought the whole purpose of this retrieval is to fix the current problems we have. This damn thing’s the- source of it! Weren’t you the one complaining about how our antiquated technology is?”

“That’s right Dr. Zimmer. I am running on derelict technology here. This thing has been so far the only useful thing I found that I can work with! Again, no thanks to you!” 

“And how do you suppose that?”

“Considering that the Railroad has more up to date technology than we do? Are you serious?! I am going to use that thing to find them! This thing has ties with the RailRoad! All I need to do is extract that knowledge.” Danse gave a cold glare to the synth. Perhaps another white lie Nick refused to admit. Nick however never lifted his gaze from the men.

“It’ll just be a waste of time!” The old man snarled turning his back to Harkness to eye the synth detective. He then spat out a noise of impatience and disgust. In a flash of hatred, Harkness reeled up the wrench, until the Infiltrator eyed him with a subtle shake of his head. The man’s face twisted and he lowered his weapon.   
“Fine, waste your time. Just don’t expect me to waste mine!” Dr Zimmer turned back, just as the wrench returned to a neutral position. He was clearly oblivious to the threat on his life.   
He then addressed the Courser who had collected Danse and Valentine.   
“I presume you notified the Institute?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” Zimmer spat. “Though, it seems like an awful lot of wasted resources just for three and a half synths. Whatever. Do what you will. I’m going out for the evening.”

In a burst of energy, he, his hired gun and several Coursers in uniform burst out of sight in a blue flash of light. 

 

“Good Riddance!” Harkness seethed, tossing his weapon aside. It made an echoing clang as it rumbled across the floor. Danse made a mental notation as to where a useful weapon now lie. 

The scientists stood on, watching Harkness as he glowered. Finally one worked up enough courage to approach. 

“Sir, I don’t want to be the thorn here, but Dr. Zimmer is your-”

“And you are dismissed!” Harkness snapped sharply turning towards him. 

“But sir!”

“All of you.” The way he snapped his words, they startled at his demand. In quick succession, they all picked up their belongings and scampered out of the room. Shortly after the room held nothing more than prisoners and the five remaining Coursers. The Coursers consisted of a woman, a thick shouldered brute, and the one who had captured Danse and Nick and the Infiltrator who took Lacy and Johnny. Harkness seemed to be the ringleader of it all.

“I’m starting to think that old deranged fool is starting to outlive his usefulness. That impulsive Fuck is really starting to mess with my plans!”

“It’s unfortunate that we need him to control the other Coursers.”

“Isn’t it? This wouldn’t be the case if we had access to the Institute ourselves!” 

“Perhaps he can’t reach the Institute.”

“No. Teleportation technology is a damn given. He can go anywhere he damn well pleases! He’s just refusing to give me the coordinates. T2, just what exactly did you report to the Institute?”

“That it was a failure. That our data was faulty and that no synths were recovered. I also noted that our liaison had unfortunately been killed during the skirmish.”

“Good.”

“I have another hypothesis about our dear Dr. Zimmer. My guess is the Institute doesn't want him back. He could be using us to pull favor.”

“Well. That would certainly make him even less of an asset to us. Damn fool! What I’d give to put that idiot fool’s head down on that chair!”

“Quiet, we can’t have the other scientists hearing of this.”

“I’m on the verge of just- murdering them all!”

“Calm down. Besides, what would dear old dad do in this situation? You need to think this out like a scientist!”

“I am thinking like a scientist. Just, curse Harkness’s programming! It appears to be acting up again. Or perhaps the constant inanity of dealing with Zimmers every day for ten years!” Harkness then walked up to the enclosures, specifically to look at the unresponsive black haired beauty.

“That bastard. I swear. He ruined her, and he would have ruined-” His gaze met with Danse’s, if ever so briefly. He sighed as he knelt down to look at her closely. “She was going to be our perfect little assassin.” The glass squawked as his sweaty hand rubbed across its surface.   
“Any chance for her to come out of this?”

“It’s hard to say. She’s one of the most current models. Trying to jam these tools into her head is about as effective as shoving a screwdriver into a man’s head. Still her vitals are good. Best we can do is put her into factory reset, and hope the damage is fleeting.”

 

“Then take her to our facility. Get her cleaned up and see what you can salvage of her mind.” He stepped back, his fingertips leaving the glass wrenched like fingernails against chalkboard as he did.   
“In the morning notify Zimmers that she expired. He’ll believe you. He thinks you’re still one of theirs.”

“Understood.” 

“Now what do we do about you?” Once again, Danse came to the center of his focus. “Brotherhood of Steel. Now that’s a catch. Beautiful. I would say that even at your level of manufacture that you were able to bypass their tests, which I must say is impressive!” Harkness then glanced over at the Infiltrator. “How did you find out about him? M7-97 was lost in Rivet City years ago.”

“You’re Dick flushed him out. It had to be him, knowing that the synth had been lost to the Brotherhood.”

Harkness stood for a quiet moment, gloating over his captives. 

“I want him now. Tonight. If we wait any longer that idiot will cock up every last one of these synths and I will not loose my Brotherhood of Steel!” Danse’s eyes widened. Knots formed in his chest forcing him to take a gasp of air. It scared him to death that they could do whatever they wanted with him. He wasn’t willing to accept it. He wouldn’t let them use them to their ends. But he realized, he was most terrified that he couldn’t do anything to stop them.

“What? What about his memories? His brotherhood training is too important. We can’t lose that!” 

“We can cache his memories for now. He’s old enough tech, this machinery will be compatible enough to do that. I fear if we don’t get control of him now, that rat bastard will deny me everything we worked so hard to achieve.”

“But we don’t have-”

“Yes, yes I know. But we do have the Gen 2.” Harkness turned and lined up his attention to Valentine. “Crack the Gen 2’s memory banks; and we get that information!”

“Already working on it. Direct Memory Access program initiated.”

“The Lazarus Program seems to be running smoothly. We just need our subject now.”

Harkness chuckled. “Excellent. Seems like great minds think alike.” Smiles and chortles flashed across the room. Some inside joke that made Nick feel even more uneasy about this whole mess.

“Well, well. Soldier.” The female Courser stepped towards Danse’s cell. “Are you ready to be on the winning team?” Danse grit his teeth down hard, rolled his shoulders, and prepped his body for a fight. And he was determined to fight. She simply smirked at his prowess.  
“My aren’t you willful? I bet you were quite the handful at the Brotherhood.” She then flipped a switch on the control panel at the door. It was followed by a quiet knocks and tinking sounds rattling from beneath their feet. Halogen and hazel eyes studied the floor for the source. Then green sickly gas oozed from the floor and into their enclosure. Nick took a step back, watching as a cloud so thick formed that he could barely see the man standing less than three feet away from him. It wouldn’t do a thing to him, but Danse was already doubled over in a fit of rough coughs. The synths on the other side of the door already had gas masks on, ready to burst in. 

“Now! Get them on the fucking table!” The door peeled open and the Coursers rushed forward. Valentine could barely put himself into a fighting stance when two were already on top of him.  
Danse took a step back, trying the best he could to catch a full breath. The Brute charged the soldier. Danse eyes widened. He was skilled in hand to hand combat but he knew he was outmatched when facing a Courser, especially when his body was aching for a clean breath of fresh air. The best he could do was avoid the grapple, or pass out. When he slipped past the Courser’s grasp, it wasn’t a sure footed victory. The Brute was being calculating, and Danse was too sluggish to counter. Still the Brute could have had him, instead with a gloating look on his face it was all too apparent he toying with him. He strolled up, cracked a hard punch across Danse’s face and kicked him into the wall. 

 

Nick managed to twist out of their first attempt to grab them. His instinct to run boiled into his need to fight. 

“No! You’ll never get me back in that chair!” The detective howled and lunged. His target was the female Courser. He slung a fist in her direction, but she slipped past his reach. Suddenly, his voice was torn out of him when in an instant, she grabbed his arm and twisted. His body rolled through the momentum, his shoulder popped and he found himself flat on the ground. He hiccuped at the pain and she took opportunity of his flinching to slam the straight edge of her elbow into his neck. He gasped, rolled and took to his knee. She saw the patchwork done from a bygone bullet and exploited it. Although it wasn’t a trachea to be destroyed, an array of pain sensors flooded his focus and caused him to bow to the pain.

Danse was behind him, finally able to take an unsteady breath and to blink the stinging tears out of his eyes. Just as he looked up she flew forward and landed a kick onto Valentine with enough force to send him crashing him into Danse. 

With barely any effort she had Nick down for the count. He sloped to the floor while Danse took his turn at the woman. She moved swifter, throwing a fist into his diaphragm. It forced him to take a rugged gasp that only pulled in more toxins. This body cried for air and his mind fluttered to stay focused.

She returned her focus on Nick. She bared down on top of him with the assistance of the Infiltrator, they drug him out despite his attempts to cling to the floor then the door. Danse made his move, scrambling to his feet, but they were faster. The Courser rushed forward and grabbed him by the shirt and threw into the wall next to the open door. Before he could register how close he was to attempting to claim his freedom, the Courser held him in place by crushing his neck just under his skull with his elbow. The force so great Danse could hardly move as his nerves succumb to the pain. Tears blotted his eyesight. Danse’s wrist was then grabbed then twisted back and tightly held into place. Between flinching, he could see how the others now surrounded NIck.

As the Infiltrator pulled Nick into the open, Harkness and the woman grabbed each of Nick’s arms holding them in place. Once held, the Infiltrator stepped forward and looked the synth over. He then ran his curled fingers down Nick’s flank, finding what he was looking for, his fist cracked down into the spot. Whatever he happened to hit was enough to knock the fight out of Nick. His legs buckled with the surprised gasp. Now the only thing holding him up were his captures. The man then pulled out a knife. 

“Ridiculous. Do you really think wearing those clothes makes you human?” The Infiltrator spat as Nick tried to lift his head and cast a defiant glare. Unphased the man reached over, grabbing at Nick’s collar and tie. With a flick of his wrist he twisted the blade and stripped Nick’s shirt and coat off in nearly one clean stroke. 

Nick’s voice cried out in humiliation. Nick no longer had any valiant attempts to fighting them back. He fell into shock. Another swipe rendered his pants as useless cloth. Nick whimpered and crumpled down as they removed the rest of his clothing, as well as any thread of dignity. Danse tried to push back after seeing the defeat of the synth. But it was useless, he was forced back into the glass. His breath fogged it up then when it cleared he saw the machine Danse always wanted the synth to be. Thoroughly dehumanized, Valentine had very little fight left in him as they forced him up onto the chair. 

Harkness pulled off another sheet, revealing an identical metal inclined chair. Each facing in a way that Nick and Danse would have the displeasure of watching while each other had their brains toyed with until putty. 

 

Straps were starting to come down, and impatient daggers were flung into Nick’s back. He could feel the palm of the Infiltrator’s hand press his skull down slicing the probe into the deepest trenches of his capacitor. It made a horrible sinking noise as it penetrated Nick’s skull. A sensation that he realized was all too familiar. 

With one synth out of the way, they pulled Danse from the wall and through the open door. Ahead of him, was a clear view of the chair. The sharp points and the length of the blades were enough to take his breath ragged. In that moment, every pounding his foot made towards the chair echoed through his body. Everything slowed, everything disappeared from his senses except for the horrors of that chair. Then as he walked past the synth, he saw Nick’s eyes. He knew Nick’s will to fight had been decimated. Nick briefly looked at him in great sadness before closing his eyes and twisting them away. Danse knew that look. A look of failure. Nick had demanded that he would not bow down to let them use him as ‘their’ synth. 

Danse failed as a soldier and that was truly unacceptable. Realizing this, he froze with a snarl on his face. In that instant all his human emulated cells drew in enough will to surmount his despair. He would die before being used as their abomination! They hadn’t expected this. In a burst of new esteem he was able to pull away from the Courser’s grasp and kick the leg out of the Brute to his left. In the same blink, he twisted and decked Harkness across the face. Danse needed to consolidate all of his resources. Tactically he needed to even the playing field even if that meant they were still going to be outnumbered. Every advantage he could get; even if it was a long shot. He twisted around and looked Nick squarely in the eye.

“Nick!”

In a flash second he portrayed that they needed to do one last stand together. Luckily Nick was only restrained by one strap across his chest, hand and his depleted will. If that will could be rekindled- then just maybe-

Danse was going to fight back just like he promised. He just hoped to hell Nick would do the same. 

Nick saw that look. He saw how Danse now turned around and was effectively fighting off not just one but two Coursers. He looked at his own situation, that maybe it wasn’t as bleak as he feared. He found he only had one Courser on him now as the rest were too busy with the equipment and confused by Danse’s chaos. She was working on the straps of his left wrist. She too paused, diverting her attention to Danse. Nick threw his fist up, slipping past the leather and out of her grasp. She hadn’t expected Nick’s rebound either. It was just enough time for him to fling his hand up and drive his thumb into her eye and for his fingers to clasped around her ear. He pulled her in and even if it was barbaric, he used the only weapon he could. His teeth sunk into her nose, causing her to scream. Danse had been caught off guard just as she had. That Nick was in such a state of mind that he was attacking her like a near animal. But every moment they stalled, was moments his enemy could take the advantage.

Danse, having already mapping the area knew the location of the makeshift weapon. As he twisted out of the grasp of Harkness, he rolled and grabbed the long wrench. Nick pulled the leather strap free and twisted to pull the lever down to get the spikes out of his back. The Brute bounded behind Danse just as he turned and cracked it across the Brute’s jaw with enough force to hear a thickening crack. Unfortunately not enough to kill, but enough to buy time.

 

Nick twisted out of the chair and looped his leg around the woman’s neck. He pulled her to the ground as he tumbled to a pouncing crouch. She staggered, holding her bloody nose in her hands. 

“You bitch!” She snarled at him. Before she made her move, the Infiltrator jumped on Nick from behind. Luckily Danse was ready, having just finished his move against the Brute. He tossed his weapon to Valentine as he grabbed the Infiltrator in a headlock and pulled him off of Nick’s back. His elbow created a vice around his jugulars and trachea. There was the correct way to subdue a person by quickly forcing them unconscious by restricting the blood flow. The wrong way was cracking bones and death. He was doing it the wrong way. The Infiltrator fell deathly silent. The woman rushed forward to intercept. Nick charged a wide swing with the wrench that undercutted her chin. She was knocked back into a stainless steel medical cart and fell limp.

“Run!” Nick yelled, although it was unnecessary. If anything it alerted the remaining combatants of their intentions. They ran across the room, weaving in between large tanks and machinery and through the double doors out of the main facility. Once through the doors, Danse braced the doors shut while another set of doors leading out were locked down with a password protected terminal. 

“Shit!” Nick spat. Danse felt dread when he saw the second set of doors. He sure as hell didn’t know anything about computers. Nick did, and took no time punching in commands on the keyboard. He would have to override the password. The stress of knowing what he would go back to if he failed lurched at his sensors. That made the job much more difficult. He didn’t have time to spare either if the pounding and grunting from Danse indicated anything. Nick’s first attempt failed. Then his second. His hand came and slide the stress away from his eyes, as if that would do anything. If he couldn't figure this out by the third, they would be no escape. He pinched his brow and shuttered his eyes closed. The pounding on the door behind them intensified. Danse shot Nick a glare effectively yelling at him to hurry this up. He didn’t say anything however, he knew pushing it would only make matters worse. That’s something Scribe Haylen taught him all too well. Instead, he did his damndest to brace all his weight on the doors, stretching out his arms and digging his fingernails into paint to keep the coursers from piling into the room. Nick picked up his eyes, cupping the lower half of his mouth with his hand. He tried to focus, calm down and focus. Behind him, he could hear Danse growling, losing the battle at keeping them at bay. Nick punched down at the keys one last time, took a deep breath and then hit enter. The greatest sound in the world indicated he was right. The doors unlocked.   
“I’m in!” Nick all but shrieked. He tore through the door, Danse at his heels. Danse closed the doors behind him and heard the lock re-engage. As they made it a few leaps down the hall, they heard a distinctive playful beep. Both turned back in horror. 

They had a swipe card, Nick and Danse hadn’t bought themselves any time at all. It was no time to dwell, both bolted forward again, racing as fast as their legs could carry them. Danse was two paces in the lead and when Nick looked up, he saw a scattering of energy in a line across the ceiling.

“Danse!” He yelled and his last step used to fling his body into Danse. Body masses crashed and Danse went flying while Nick fell back to the floor. When Danse picked himself up, annoyed and surprised, he saw why. Between him and the sprawled out Nick was bars of glowing red energy trapping Nick onto their side. 

Nick somehow barely managed to get burnt by the plasma, still when he stood up and saw he was trapped, he brought his hand up to grab the energy anyway. It snapped at his plastic skin and he was forced to let go. He looked at Danse. Both had equal horrified looks on their faces. Nick then turned, seeing the Coursers line up behind him. When he returned to face Danse he had the look of despondence. 

“Go,” Nick’s eyes twisted away as he said it. When Danse stalled his eyes tore up in fury. “Go! Damn you!”

Danse turned and fled without a second thought.

As he ran down the corridor, he didn’t look back but he imagined how Nick turned to face the army of Coursers. Just one synth versus four. The echoing sounds of fists smashing flesh rebounded. Nick’s howled and went silent. It was at that time, Danse found the end of the tunnel. He felt around the wall, found the lever and opened his way to freedom.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't believe you're replacing me with this . . . thing!"
> 
> An abomination. Something that should be destroyed. Yet while Danse struggled to come to terms with his newfound identity he still harbored his prejudices against the Institution and its synths. But nothing is as black and white as he once believed. When he gets mixed up with Nick Valentine, a group of runaway synths and an Institution splinter group, he finds himself on a mission with a handful of Nora's detestable allies.
> 
> There's Deacon, the embodiment of dishonesty and deception; Hancock, an egotistical, narcotized ghoul and self-appointed mayor of a criminal haven; and of course Nick Valentine, the synth. Synth. What more needs to be said in those regards? While he could find numerous reasons to take judge, jury and executioner against any one of them, he finds that among them he shares at least something in common.
> 
> With others, maybe even more.
> 
> Mostly a story based on Danse's comment between Nick's character swap and Danse's swap. One is much more accepting than the other. I'd like to delve into a scenario as to why.
> 
> At first alternating POV. Later more congruent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully chapters will come a little sooner now. Some of the later ones already have large chunks written up. Again, slightly rushed so expect some cleaning up of my already terrible but-don't-care grammar. Also, poor Nick in this chapter man :\\. I miss how fantastically evil my character was in 3. The biggest disappointment in 4 to me was the removal of the Karma system, and the fact that you were pigeonholed into dialog that was voiced by an actor. It really lost a sense of connection to the character you were playing. Like annoying when you come across a 60 year old dude and you sarcastically want to say "oh, so you're my son?" and the voice actor is oogling over him like he's a freaking baby. At that point, you are no longer my character. Ho Hum, I supposed that's why I found the companions to be far more interesting. 
> 
> I would like to start writing Brave New World soon as well. I'll have to see how time works in my world. 
> 
> Cheers.

“Well, it looks like you’re wasting your time after all.” Nick said in a nonchalant tone. It was purposely absent minded to provoke the man hovering over him. It was a play, and he got the results he expected. The flash of pure hatred burned throughout Harkness’s eyes. He straightened glaring the synth over as hot snorts blazed from flared nostrils. He then stormed away out of Nick’s sight, followed by frustrated screaming. Something was swatted and the ringing of metal utensils scattering about. The man was quick to rage. And Nick could deduce: carelessly destructive. Hopefully to important things. Getting under one’s skin showed what people were vulnerable to. Give an insight of weakness that could hopefully be exploited. Nick’s sneer wound its way up onto his face. He was captured, he was confined, but he wasn’t at a total loss. That sneer was nearly a cocky gotcha smirk, if it wasn’t for his predicament it surely would have been. Still, nearly an hour had passed, and all the strange lines of code fluttering in front of his eyes was no closer to breaking his memory banks any more than Nick ever was. 

“Try this one.” The female Courser’s voice perked up trying to bring some calm into the man’s frustration. What Nick gathered from his limited view was that she was the only one who had stayed behind to assist Harkness. The others had disappeared a while ago with their synth captives in tow. He hadn’t recognized it before, but the large device now behind him was likely an active telepod for any of those who don’t have a chip frequency of their own.

“Don’t know what good it will do- but fine.” Harkness snapped. The cassette was snatched away from her. The man stormed back over, hovering over Nick while harshly jamming the holotape into Nick’s reader. Then he twisted away to mess with the dials that controlled whatever gizmos were jammed into the back of Nick’s head. 

More code. Nothing to unlock the mystery of the universe, or Nick’s mind for that matter. It must have been a good fifteen minutes of tinkering with no astonishing results. 

“No!” Harkness whined. “No, do not let that bastard be right!” Nick couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Any time wasted at not finding anything was time betting on Danse’s return. The Courser’s companion, Riker the name whom Nick finally learned, offered another holotape. 

“This one is labeled with a different serial code. Could be something?” 

With a sigh, the old holotape was ejected, and the new one inserted. Nick didn’t really think anything new would come of it. At least he hoped. And then-

A void.

Blackness surmounted by nothingness. However, this nothingness wasn’t just nowhere. Nowhere was a place. A place where he found himself being non-existent and existent all in the same slate. It was incomplete. Nothing could be perceived. It surmounted in this horribly uncomfortable realm of not being. Unfamiliar. Intangible. Impalpable. If perception, was a perceivable thing, the best he could comprehend was that there was something in this nothing. But what? Himself? He tried so damn hard to know what- and couldn’t. Perhaps it was the color of sound. No. The hearing of color? No. Damnit! The disorientating frenzy. It ripped at his- soul? Something was there but he could not comprehend it, no matter how hard he tried. How much he wanted it. Needed it. He needed to - what was it? Sight-sound-touch? Feel! He couldn’t feel! There was something there and he couldn’t feel out whatever the hell it was. He couldn’t perceive the god forsaken - thing? Why couldn’t he tell? A tunnel. No. Senses? Senses! That was what he was missing! He had no senses. Which was a concept that made no sense. Something was there, he knew it was, but he had no way of feeling it. Then how is it there?

 

How? Why? Why was he trapped with experiences beyond his comprehension?  
Nausea. But he didn’t think there was a body. How do you get nausea with no body? Still he felt sick. So very sick. Disorientated. A mind. Maybe in a mind. Where? A maybe without a body. No. Fractured. Everything was fractured. He felt ill, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t find himself. It was just darkness and this horrible thing flooding him. The thither that wasn’t but was thither. Something was there. There had to be. He needed to know what it was! He couldn't tell if it was light, sound, texture. He tried to focus- it started screaming. Whatever the hell it was he was trying to sense- it was screaming. But it wasn’t sound!

All he knew was that he wanted this to stop! Needed it! Whatever it was, he needed it to stop!! Everything was spinning. Could that be why he was sick. And why spinning. There was no up, no down. Left- right. Even with no body? Nothing made sense. His mind, if that’s what it was, was tearing itself apart trying to desperately make sense of anything. Bands of- not light- not sound- Nothing to do with sight or hearing or touch. There wasn’t any color. It was all black. It had always been black! But not black, a void. A void of where his mind should be.

Then-

At once his senses came flooding back to him. Overwhelming at first. Too much. Too soon. Too fast! His body was disorientated from the overload. Anything that should have been dark came back as blaring light, other things that should have been bright with color were mute and dim. The sounds of electricity running across small wires forty feet away blazed with a wretched buzzing noise soaked through his ears. All the while the noises inches away sounded hundreds of miles away. Was he trembling? He couldn’t tell, but everything seemed so shaky.

After a moment the yellow light slowly dialed back. Senses started to- normalize. Like a relief valve opening, he took in every single conceptual piece he could. Things were coming back to focus. Light to color- Color to shade, shade to shapes. Ceiling, wall, beam, light fixture. Now he could follow the cracks on the ceiling, the trails of wire, the i-beams until they went past his line of sight. He tried moving his head to see more but it jerked at his attempt. He realized he could feel the needles jostling in his head, down his neck, his back. Tracing all the way down his spine until he could feel his fingers. He moved them. They worked. He twisted his wrist until the strap prevented him from moving it further. Down to his knees. They jerked at his will. Then he tested his toes. Something was off, but they moved. Now he recognised sounds. The right ones, the ones not far off in the distance. He could hear: breathing. Very distinct rasp of air going in and out. Although, he realized it wasn’t his breaths. He discovered he wasn’t breathing. Somehow that didn’t alarm him. He wasn’t experiencing suffocation so he didn’t need the air. When he tried to pinpoint where the breaths came from he realized how- lustful they sounded. Harkness’s face dipped into view again. Suddenly all that horror came back to him when he realized how this was all that bastard’s doing!

“Wh-what the hell was that!?” Nick shrieked. Screaming it out to the top of his artificial lungs while he struggled against his binds. In that blip of time, Nick realized forty five minutes had passed. Nick was horrified- shaken, and the man above him couldn’t be more amused. A sick smile grew on Harkness’s face.

“Well that was interesting.” His voice purred, in such demented amusement. Then the she-devil slid into view, a wicked smile already plastered on her face.

“I found another.” She held up her trophy. Waving it in the air, mocking him. He felt the old cartridge slide away from his deck as she moved in. He couldn’t fight it. There were too many straps holding him down. The holotape went in, then clicked into place. Nick whimpered then begged. 

“N-no!” 

This time Nick had enough wherewithal to clench his teeth, jam his eyes shut and brace himself for whatever travesty he might find himself in this time. 

And it was worse. He still felt formless and lost but this time there was more stimulation to add to the sensations of panic and sickness. By the fourth holotape suffocation was added, fifth: pain in the form of an eerie numbness By the eighth: sound separated from color. He could finally make out sound. It was voices that caused him so much discomfort. They were echoey and harsh. They seemed to get louder and louder each second, sending a screeching vibe through him. Whatever the hell ‘him’ was! Finally, by the twelfth holotape, things were slightly tangible. 

“St-st-still n-n-n-no rsp-o-o-o-o-ons.” It wasn’t like he was hearing with his ears. It was like it overcame him from all directions. Running him over like a bus. What he could only assume at this point was his mind begged for this to stop. He didn’t have words for it. He was trapped in a body. He was sure of that by now, but he couldn’t move. All he wanted, was for this horror to stop.

“H-h-h-h-h-h-;” the echoing jutted into words, however the decibels were to an extreme. It felt like his head was inside of a drum and someone was beating the hell out of it.   
“Here! Try this.”

“Something changed! Holy-sh-! What did you do!?” The talking drifted away to something too muffled. There were also too many voices to keep track of. However anything tangible, his mind locked onto like a vice. No matter how unbearably uncomfortable it was, it was something conceptual.

“Here, when you adjusted the dial, there was a response, see? Here. Actually, a lot of response! Look at that! Has this been running the entire time?” The colors bled every time a sharp consonant was spoken. 

“So, if there’s all this activity- why isn’t it moving?”

“Is it supposed to be shaking.”

“So something with our calculations, still aren’t right.”

“Oh, this is so irritating! We never had these issues with 001. Can’t we just scrap this project?”

“001, isn’t humanity redefined. We need to understand the human mind if we want any chance to replicate it.”

“Geez. Four years of this crap and the best we got out of it was a gawdamn seizure?”

“Alright- I’m calling it. Get some rest everyone, see you tomorrow!”

A horrific slamming of the senses brought him back to the present again. This time, Nick was left gasping for air. Not that he needed it, but he needed it. As the recognizable overload of reality resided, he overheard Harkness and Riker talking. 

“Here we are. Ah, so this one, it’s memories are pulled from a human: prewar, hardwired into his processors.”

 

“So we can’t actually access his current memories through this?”

“Doesn’t look like it. Damn. No, not any made after this. Only its pre-human ones. It looks like they were tampering something they didn’t fully understand. Which means-”

“We’re stumped. Oh well. Hm, so that must be why there are two chairs.”

“Still, I’m having a hard time being disheartened. I have to admit, this is rather fascinating. This opens up so much information on how we need to proceed next.”

“Right. How they adapted a human mind to a mechanical shell, it’s nothing like what we’re trying to do, but at least the understanding of how to break down the memories, we can manipulate them, split them apart. This is perfect! This is- Exactly what we wanted! I can’t get over how this terrific this is. And so fascinating, I could spend YEARS digging inside his head.” 

“Oh, let’s do another!”

“No! No, let’s not!” Nick cried out. His protests were in vain as another holotape clicked into place.

“It’s panicking! That’s what these readouts are saying! Ha! I finally figured it out!”

“It’s panicking? That’s the stupidest thing I heard in months! How can it panic? It can’t even move!”

“The mind can’t perceive correctly. The D.I.M.A. software isn’t translating the human perception of the mind correctly. See here? It’s reading a garbled mess and it doesn't know how to deal with it! That’s why the brain pattern adjusted to this when I tweaked this module. Look. It’s closer resembled to this pattern. That’s why my hypothesis say it’s panicking. I can prove it if you like. If we take these keynotes-” 

“So basically, redo everything from scratch.”

“Yeah. Yeah, looks like it. I think we need to scrap it, maybe add in new sensory outputs- you know, like a body would. Pain, pleasure, hormones. We need to simulate all of that.”

“Okay. To the drawing board. Pull the plug on this unit.”

Unconsciousness followed, followed by consciousness. This time, sight. Too much light. The colors were sporadic and broke up into waves, swirling around his head. Offline, online. Again and again, each time, more senses came back to him. Each time, just as horrifying as the last. One of those times, he finally found his voice. 

The entirety of the next memory was him screaming. 

Offline. Online. Offline. The holotape was ejected from his player.

Once again in reality. Once again being toyed with by the two Coursers replaying god. It was a good minute straight of his breathing run ragged. It was a nightmare. He didn’t know how much of this he could endure. When he checked how long since they started working him over, his heart sunk. It had only been nine hours. He had to check his internal clock over a dozen of times to be sure. Only. Nine. Hours! Valentine was at wits end. It sure as hell didn’t feel like nine hours. Fifty! A hundred years. An eternity but not a measly nine hours. And where the hell was Danse?! Was he coming back at all? Would he be left here to endure this crap- forever?! No! He couldn’t. This was already too much! Even worse; by now Harkness managed to figure out how to inflict every sensation known to man. Or, at least known to Nick. Cuts, bruises, burns. Hunger, thirst, addiction. And with those tools at their disposal, their original intent of gaining information from him returned to their focus. 

“Where is the Railroad?” 

Drowning.

“Who are they?”

Starvation. Deprivation. 

“How do I find them!”

Take your pick. They were very creative in their interrogation techniques.

And each time Nick remained tight lipped or fought back with a quip, the infliction grew worse and worse. 

“You know what I like about this?” Harkness circled around him. He picked up a scalpel from one of the tables. For show, he raised it high up in the giving Nick a good view of it.  
“It’s not messy like this is. I can, say for example, cut off a finger,” his free hand twisted on a knob.  
“Zing!” Nick seethed from the pain. Sharp, hot, pain bleeding out from his pinky. But no blood. No mess. No disfigurement. No need to put Humpty Dumpty the synth back together again.  
“I always hated how messy it got. And the screaming? Well- I kind of enjoy the screaming. Most voices crack by now. Seems your synthetic body doesn't have that disadvantage.”

“Sounds like you seriously need to look into getting some new hobbies!” Nick gritted between his teeth. “I hear stamp collecting is calming. You sound too worked up. Maybe you should find something a little less violent. Something to get your head on straight!”

 

“Ho, ho. I like my head where it is. In fact I’d love to have it expanded. Anyway. Let's see-” It was like a damn game to this man. “I could take off a testical, well,” he set the sharp tip of the scalpel to the smooth plastic between Nick’s legs, “not physically of course, but you wouldn’t know the difference with this.” He strolled over at the controls. Nick could only tense up and wait for it. Then Harkness craned his head thoughtfully, “Though, I wouldn’t want you to pass out. I’m rather enjoying our time together. I’d be bored if you were unconscious. Hmm. Can you pass out even? I wonder. Should we find out?” 

“You’re sick!”

“No. I’m a scientist!” He snapped in annoyance. “I just don’t let pesky things like ethics get in my way. I wonder, if we vivisection you over and over- would you gain a resistance? By the twentieth? Hundred? I am curious to find out.”

“Or, I could save you the trouble.” Riker nuzzled her face into Nick’s. She looked at him past her newly formed scar on her nose. “Just- Tell us how to find the Railroad.” Nick’s core burned when he could sense the lies hidden in her voice.

“You’re enjoying this too?” Nick locked wide eyes on hers. Damnit to hell if he didn't hate himself for what he was about to do. Telling them what they wanted to hear wouldn’t change things anyway. “Sorry Sweetheart. My lips are sealed. Call it ‘client's right privileges’.”

“Doh.” Her lips formed a line as she made a pleasurable hum. “Actually I was hoping you’d say that. It’s my turn to play!”

“Sweetheart?” Harkness’s drifted back to Nick’s words. His voice lit up at the word.

“Sweetheart.” Riker repeated, now straightening up over Valentine. The same light going off in her mind as if they were on the stroke of the same beat. They both scattered to the holotapes. Riker digging through the box of yet unknowns, and Harkness through the ones they already spent on Valentine. All Nick could do, was swallow down his alarm and brace himself for the worst. They had at least four hours of digging through Old Nick’s memories. Some good, some bad, some ugly- all of it a life he did not want them to know of, see or touch, but it was out of his hands a long time ago. After a moment, the female courser returned, clutching several holotapes in her hands. She looked coy; in pure bliss. She held out the tapes as if holding out a bouquet. With a smile, Harkness daintily pulled out one. 

It was in that next holotape that the straw broke the camel's back.

Jenny Lands lying blue on a cold slab. He was reliving her death, just as the day it happened. That insurmountable hole punched in his chest as her life was instantly snuffed out was bad enough. And then, when they added in the experience of physical pain like they promised, it was too much.

He couldn’t take it. 

His voice sung to the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also sad, I don't think my last chapter update made it in the recently submitted search. :( Kinda hope this one does..cuz ya know..Kudos and ppls reading and stuff. Terrible I am!


End file.
